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THE    EDUCATION 
OF    THE   WILL 

The    Theory  and   Practise  of  Self-Culture 
BY 

JULES  PAYOT,  Litt.D.,  Ph.D. 

Rector  of  the  Academy  of  Aix,  France 


Authorized  Translation  by 

SMITH  ELY  JELLIFFE,  M.D.,  Ph.D. 

Visiting  Neurologist,  City  Hospital,  New  York;  Physician  New  York 
Neurological   Hospital;    Clinical  Professor   of  Psychiatry,   Ford- 
ham  University,  New  York;  Translator  of  Dubois's  "The 
Psychic  Treatment  of  Nervous  Disorders,"  etc. 


From  the  Thirtieth  French  Edition 

SIXTH  AMERICAN  EDITION 


FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


COPYBIGHT,    1909 
BY 

FUNK   &   WAGNALLS   COMPANY 

Printed  in  the   United  States  of  America 

Published,  October,  1009 


e.  L  I 


DEDICATION 

To  M.  TH.  EIBOT 

Director  of  the  Eevue  Philosophique 
Professor   of   Experimental   Psychology   at   the   College   de 

France 
With  sincere  affection  and  respect, 

-J.  P. 


0 


422864 


CONTENTS 

Page 

Preface  to  the  first  edition vii 

Preface  to  the  second  edition xiv 

Preface  to  the  twenty-seventh  edition  ....     xxi 

THEORETICAL  SECTION 
BOOK  I— PRELIMINARIES 

I.  The  Evils  to  be  Overcome 3 

II.  The  Aim  to  Pursue 23 

III.  Discouraging  and  False  Theories  Concerning 

the  Education  of  the  Will     .     .     ;.-   .      .  30 

BOOK  II— THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF 
THE  WILL 

I.  A  Study  of  the  Role  that  Ideas  Play  in  the 

Will    .     .     .     , 53 

II.  The  Role  of  the  Emotional  States  in  the  Will    70 
III.  The  Kingdom  of  Intelligence     .      .      .      .      .  100 

BOOK  III— THE  INTERNAL  MEASURES 

I.  The  Part  of  Meditative  Reflection  in  the  Edu- 
cation of  the  Will 141 

II.  What  Meditation  Means  and  How  to  Meditate  198 
III.  The  Role  of  Action  in  the  Education  of  the 

Will 208 


CONTENTS 


Page 

IV.  Bodily  Hygiene,  Considered  from  the  Point  of 
View  of  the   Student's  Education  of  His 

Will 247 

V.  A  General  Glance  .     .     .     .     .     .     ...  289 

PRACTICAL  SECTION 

BOOK  IV— PRIVATE  MEDITATIONS 

I.  The  Enemies  to  Combat:   Sentimental  Day- 

Dreams  and  Sensuality     .      .     *•"..'    .      .  295 
II.  Enemies  to   Combat:    Companions,  Acquaint- 
ances, etc -» .•' •*•    .     .  344 

III.  Enemies  to  Combat :  Sophisms  of  the  Indolent  355 

IV.  Joys  of  Work   .      .      .      .\     e     •     •     •      - 

BOOK  V— THE  RESOURCES  OF  OUR 
ENVIRONMENT 

I.  Public  Opinion,  Professors,  etc 389 

II.  Influence  of  the  "Departed  Great"    V     *     .412 
Conclusion          


[vi] 


PREFACE  TO    THE    FIRST 
EDITION 

"What  is  so  admirable  is  that  they  recognize 
the  need  of  a  master  and  of  instruction  in  all 
other  affairs — and  study  them  with  some  care. 
It  is  only  the  science  of  life  which  they  do 
not  study  at  all,  and  which  they  do  not  de- 
sire to  comprehend." 

NICOLE — "Treatise    on   the   Necessity   of 
Not  Trusting  to  Chance." 

IN  the  seventeenth  century  and  during  a 
part  of  the  eighteenth,  religion  held  supreme 
sway  over  the  mind :  the  problem  of  the  edu- 
cation of  the  will  could  not  present  itself  in 
all  its  generalities.  The  forces  wielded  by 
the  Catholic  Church,  that  incomparable  mis- 
tress of  character,  were  sufficient  to  regulate 
along  its  broader  lines  the  life  of  the  believer. 
But  to-day  this  instruction  has  been  elimi- 
nated by  the  majority  of  thinking  men,  and 
it  has  never  been  replaced.  Newspapers,  re- 

[vii] 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION 

views,  and  even  novels,  vie  with  one  another 
in  depreciating  the  present  unimportant  role 
played  by  the  will. 

This  universal  neglect  of  the  will  has 
attracted  the  attention  of  physicians.  But 
these  physicians  of  the  mind  are  unfortu- 
nately permeated  with  the  prevalent  doc- 
trines of  psychology.  In  the  matter  of  the 
will,  they  attribute  a  special  importance  to 
the  intelligence.  They  argue  that  what  we 
lack  is  a  metaphysical  theory  substantiated 
from  the  outside.  Their  ignorance  is  quite 
excusable.  It  is  a  law  recognized  in  polit- 
ical economy  that  cultivation  always  shifts 
from  the  ground  which  is  the  softest  but 
most  unproductive  to  that  which  is  the 
most  fertile  but  the  hardest  to  till.  The 
same  rule  applies  in  the  field  of  psychological 
science. 

Before  approaching  the  essential  phenom- 
ena, the  explanation  of  which  is  difficult,  a 
study  has  been  made  of  the  simplest  appear- 
ances, the  conduct  of  which  is  of  little  im- 
portance. It  is  difficult  to  realize  how  insig- 
nificant is  the  influence  on  the  character  of  a 
simple  idea.  The  will  is  a  sentimental  power, 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION 

and  every  idea,  in  order  to  influence  it,  has 
to  be  colored  with  passion. 

If  the  mechanism  of  the  will  is  studied  at 
close  quarters,  it  will  be  seen  that  metaphys- 
ical theories  are  of  little  importance,  and 
that  there  is  no  inclination  deliberately  fol- 
lowed which  is  not  capable,  by  the  intelligent 
use  of  our  psychological  resources,  of  influ- 
encing our  entire  life.  A  miser  sacrifices 
every  physical  satisfaction;  he  eats  poor 
food,  sleeps  on  a  hard  bed,  lives  without 
friends,  without  pleasures,  all  for  the  love  of 
money.  This  being  the  case,  why  should 
not  an  idea  less  degraded  have  the  power 
of  shaping  our  destiny?  The  fact  is,  that 
one  does  not  realize  how  varied  are  the 
means  offered  by  psychology  to  give  us  the 
power  of  becoming  what  we  would  like 
to  be. 

Unfortunately,  up  to  the  present  time  very 
little  attention  has  been  given  to  the  study  of 
our  resources  from  this  point  of  view. 

The  spirits  which  have  directed  the  train 
of  European  thought  for  the  last  thirty  years 
have  been  divided  by  two  theories,  which  are 
the  pure  and  simple  antitheses  of  the  theory 

[W 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION 

of  the  education  of  the  will.  The  first  con- 
sists in  treating  character  as  an  immovable 
block  over  which  we  have  no  control.  This 
infantile  theory  will  be  dealt  with  later  on. 
The  second  seems  apparently  in  keeping  with 
the  education  of  the  will.  It  is  the  theory  of 
the  free  agent.  Stuart  Mill  himself x  goes 
so  far  as  to  say  that  this  theory  has  given  its 
supporters  a  keen  perception  of  "personal 
culture/'  In  spite  of  this  assertion  of  a  de- 
terminist,  we  do  not  hesitate  in  considering 
the  theory  of  the  free  agent  as  dangerous  to 
the  mastery  of  self  as  is  the  preceding  one, 
and  as  definitely  discouraging.  It  has,  in 
fact,  led  one  to  consider  self-enfranchisement 
as  something  easy  and  natural  when  it  is  in 
reality  a  task  of  long  duration,  a  task  which 
requires  much  patience,  and  which  demands 
a  very  precise  knowledge  of  psychological 
resources. 

Through  its  very  simplicity,  this  theory  has 
deterred  many  keen  and  subtle  minds  from 
the  study  of  the  states  of  the  will.  It  has 
thus  caused  to  psychology,  and  it  may  be  said 
to  humanity,  an  irreparable  loss. 

i< 'Logic,"  II,  Book  VI,  Chap.  II.     Paris,  F.  Alcan. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION 

This  is  why  this  book  is  dedicated  to 
M.  Ribot.  It  is  dedicated  less  to  our  old  pro- 
fessor, to  whom  we  owe  our  taste  for  psycho- 
logical research,  than  to  the  man  of  initiative, 
who  was  the  first  man  in  France  to  expel 
metaphysics  from  psychology.  First  in  the 
field,  he  resolutely  set  aside  the  investigation 
of  the  nature  of  the  phenomena  of  conscience, 
in  order  to  study  as  a  scholar  the  antecedents 
and  the  unconditional  concomitants  of  the  in- 
tellectual and  volitional  states.  This  method, 
it  must  be  borne  in  mind,  is  in  no  way  meta- 
physical. It  does  not  exclude  psychology 
from  metaphysics,  but  simply  metaphysics 
from  psychology,  which  is  a  very  different 
matter.  It  consists  in  treating  psychology  as 
a  science.  The  aim  of  the  scholar  is  not  sim- 
ply to  acquire  knowledge,  but  to  turn  his 
knowledge  to  account. 

The  fact  that  the  undulatory  theory  of  light 
is  only  an  unverifiable  hypothesis,  is  of  little 
value  to  the  physician  so  long  as  the  hypo- 
thesis succeeds;  and  what  does  it  matter  to 
the  psychologist  if  his  hypothesis — for  in- 
stance, the  hypothesis  of  the  absolute  correla- 
tion of  the  nervous  and  psychologic  states — 

[xi] 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION 

is  unverifiable  so  long  as  it  succeeds?  To 
succeed,  to  be  able  to  anticipate  events,  to 
turn  them  to  our  advantage,  and  in  a  phrase 
to  shape  our  destiny — here  is  the  role  of  the 
scholar,  and  hence  that  of  the  psychologist. 
This,  at  least,  is  the  conception  we  have 
formed  of  our  task. 

We  have  had  to  investigate  the  causes  of 
the  weakness  of  the  will.  We  thought  that  the 
remedy  was  to  be  found  in  the  careful  culture 
of  affective  states.  ' '  The  means  of  forming  and 
strengthening  methods  of  self-enfranchise- 
ment, of  annihilating  or  suppressing  impres- 
sions antagonistic  to  self-mastery, "  might 
have  been  the  subtitle  of  the  book  we  are 
offering  to  the  public.  This  road  has  been 
untraveled;  we  have  given  our  share  of  con- 
tributive  effort  to  an  important  task.  Instead 
of  treating  the  education  of  the  will  "in  ab- 
stracto,"  we  have  taken  as  the  essential 
subject  "the  education  of  the  will  such  as  is 
demanded  by  prolonged  and  persevering  in- 
tellectual work."  We  are  convinced  that 
students  and  intellectual  workers  generally 
will  find  here  much  very  useful  informa- 
tion. I  have  heard  many  young  peo- 

[xii] 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION 

pie  complain  of  the  absence  of  a  method  in 
arriving  at  self-mastery.  I  am  offering  them 
the  results  of  nearly  four  years  of  study  and 
meditation  on  the  subject. 

JULES  PAYOT. 
Chamouni,  August  8,  1893. 


PREFACE    TO    THE    SECOND 
EDITION 

THE  encouraging  reception  given  by  the 
foreign  and  domestic  press  and  an  enthusi- 
astic public,  who  exhausted  a  first  edition  in 
a  few  weeks,  proves  that  the  appearance  of 
this  book  was  timely,  and  that  it  fulfils  the 
urgent  need  of  an  enlightened  public. 

We  thank  our  numerous  correspondents, 
and  especially  those  students  of  law  and  med- 
icine who  have  sent  us  such  valuable  docu- 
ments in  praise  of  the  first  chapter  of  Book 
V.  Some  of  them  take  exception  to  our  ' '  pes- 
simism." Never,  they  say,  has  youth  talked 
so  much  about  action.  Alas!  to  talk  is  of 
little  value  when  we  must  act.  It  seems  that 
the  majority  of  young  people  confound  noise 
and  agitation  with  creative  action.  Some, 
and  those  the  best  qualified  to  speak,  think 
that  the  youth  of  the  schools  consists  for  the 
most  part  of  dilettanti  and  weaklings.  Now 
dilettanteism  and  weakness  are  two  diseases 
of  the  will  which  it  is  necessary  to  try  to 

[xiv] 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION 

cure.  The  practical  part  of  the  education  of 
the  will  has  encountered  hardly  anything  but 
unmixed  praise.  The  same  can  not  be  said 
of  Chapter  III  (Book  I)  and  Chapter  I 
(Book  II).  We  expected  to  be  opposed  on 
these  points,  but  many  of  the  critics,  we  think, 
have  passed  to  one  side  of  the  question. 

We  have  never  made  the  assertion  that  the 
imagination  is  devoid  of  all  influence  on  the 
will.  We  have  laid  great  stress,  it  is  true,  on 
the  role  played  in  our  volitions  by  instinctive 
promptings  and  habits.  But  we  maintain  in 
one  place  that  the  superior  will  consists  in 
submitting  our  tendencies  to  our  ideas;  and 
in  another,  that  the  imagination  has  directly 
and  immediately  no  power  over  the  "  brute 
force  of  our  lower  natures. "  The  power  of 
the  imagination  over  such  adversaries  is  in- 
direct; it  must,  under  pain  of  failure,  get 
help  from  other  sources — that  is  to  say, 
from  the  affective  states. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that,  while  we  were 
prepared  to  see  our  theory  of  liberty  chal- 
lenged by  the  defenders  of  the  free  agent,  it 
is  rather  the  partizans  of  the  theory  of  the 
innateness  of  character  who  have  taken  us 

[XV] 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION 

into  account.  Moreover,  the  theory  of  the 
free  agent  seems  to  be  discarded  more  and 
more  by  teachers  who  find  that  they  have  to 
deal,  not  with  abstraction  but  with  living 
realities.  On  this  subject,  I  have  been  told 
that  M.  Marion,  who  is  a  great  authority  in 
these  matters,  indicated  with  vehemence  in 
his  lecture  course  of  1884-85  the  practical 
harm  that  has  been  done  to  us  by  the  meta- 
physical hypothesis  of  the  free  agent  in  pre- 
venting us  from  studying  the  conditions  of 
real  liberty.  M.  Marion,  in  the  preface  to 
his  thesis  on  moral  solidity,  opposes  the 
formula  of  M.  Fouillee  that  the  idea  of  our 
freedom  makes  us  free.  In  simply  believing 
we  are  free,  we  never  realize  the  extent  of 
our  freedom,  and  this  view,  therefore,  is 
more  true  than  useful.  Nothing  is  more  ob- 
vious than  that  we  are  not  really  free  until 
we  have  learned  to  gain  our  liberty  by  a  hard 
struggle. 

As  for  the  reproach  that  has  been  made 
that  the  author  has  not  made  enough  of  in- 
nate character,  it  seems  to  us  that  this  rests 
on  an  imperfect  conception  of  what  char- 
acter is. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION 

A  character  is  not  a  simple  substance.  It 
is  a  complicated  result  of  tendencies  and 
ideas.  In  short,  to  affirm  the  innateness  of 
a  character  is  to  affirm  many  absurdities. 

First  of  all,  it  is  assuming  that  a  resultant, 
a  mass  of  heterogeneous  elements,  a  method 
of  grouping  forces,  can  be  innate,  which  is 
unintelligible.  It  is  assuming,  moreover, 
that  one  can  obtain,  at  the  state  of  perfect 
purity,  an  innate  element  that  can  be  de- 
tached from  the  maze  woven  by  the  influences 
of  environment  and  education,  which  is  im- 
possible. The  impossibility  imposes  on  us  the 
greatest  diffidence  in  fixing  the  role  played 
by  innateness. 

Lastly,  to  affirm  that  the  character  is  in- 
nate implies  an  assertion  against  which  our 
intimate  experience,  the  experience  of  teach- 
ers and  of  the  whole  of  humanity,  rebels — 
the  assertion  that  the  essential  elements  of 
character  and  tendencies  are  forever  un- 
changeable. We  prove  that  there  is  nothing 
in  this  theory  (II.,  iii),  and  that  one  can  mod- 
ify, repress,  or  strengthen  a  sentiment.  If 
the  whole  of  humanity  was  not  of  this  opin- 
ion, one  would  not  give  one 's  self  the  trouble 

[  xvii  ] 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION 

of  bringing  up  children.  Nature  would  take 
care  of  them  herself  by  her  immutable  laws. 

These  theoretical  views  are  sufficient  to  in- 
validate the  doctrine  of  the  innateness  of 
character.  One  should  read,  to  complete  the 
conviction,  the  recent  works  on  character,1 
and  particularly  the  last  part  of  the  work 
by  M.  Paulhan.  It  will  be  seen  that  there 
exists  for  the  most  part  plurality  of  types  in 
the  same  individual;  that  evolution  makes 
tendencies  disappear,  or  produces  new  ones 
as  time  goes  on,  that  the  substitutions  of 
character  in  the  same  individual  are  frequent. 
What  does  this  prove,  except  that  nothing  is 
so  rare  as  character! 

The  vast  majority  of  children  present  the 
spectacle  of  an  anarchy  of  tendencies.  Has 
not  education  rightly  as  its  aim  the  task  of 
organizing  the  disorder  and  producing  sta- 
bility and  uniformity?  Often  indeed,  when 
one  thinks  the  work  completed,  arrives  the 
crisis  of  puberty,  which,  like  a  wind-storm, 
overthrows  everything;  anarchy  recom- 
mences, and  if  the  young  man,  henceforth 

iBibot,  Eevue  philos.,  November,  1892;  Paulhan,  "Les 
Caracteres,"  1  vol.  237  pages,  1894,  F.  Alcan;  Perez, 
"Le  caractere  de  1 'enfant  a  1'homme,"  1892,  F.  Alcan. 

[  xviii  ] 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION 

alone,  does  not  take  his  share  in  the  task  of 
moral  unification,  if  he  does  not  forge  his 
character,  he  will  become  one  of  those  "mar- 
ionettes" of  which  we  speak. 

Moreover,  if  character  was  innate,  if  every 
one  found  everything  complete,  and,  as  a  gift 
with  which  to  celebrate  the  joyous  advent  of 
his  birth,  each  man  found  the  unity  of  life, 
it  ought  to  be  possible  to  find  characters 
around  us.  Where  are  they? 

Is  it  the  political  world  which  furnishes  us 
with  them?  Except  for  lofty  exceptions 
which  render  the  contrast  painful,  one  rarely 
sees  whole  lives  directed  toward  a  superior 
goal;  the  dispersal  of  ideas  and  inclinations 
is  great;  agitation  is  common,  and  fruitful 
actions  are  rare.  One  finds  too  often  the 
souls  of  children  in  the  bodies  of  men. 

Who  could  fail  to  have  observed  in  litera- 
ture, after  the  terrible  hurricane  of  1870,  an 
almost  complete  unanimity  among  those  who 
held  the  pen  to  consecrate  their  efforts  to 
the  glorification  of  the  human  animal?  And 
what  shows  the  justice  of  the  opinion  of 
Manzoni *  is  that  heredity  goes  just  as  far 

i  Cf .  page  208. 

[xix] 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION 

toward  lessening  as  toward  increasing  the 
passions. 

Instead  of  stimulating  what  is  greatest  and 
noblest  in  ourselves,  almost  all  writers  have 
appealed  to  our  inferior  instincts ;  they  have 
considered  all  our  instincts  as  confined  to  the 
spinal  cord.  Instead  of  a  literature  for 
thinkers,  they  have  given  us  a  literature  for 
moral  decadents. 

But  why  continue?  If  character  implies 
unity  and  stability,  if  it  implies  orientation 
toward  higher  ends,  it  can  not  be  innate. 
This  unity  and  this  stability,  which  are  repug- 
nant to  the  natural  anarchy  we  possess,  must 
be  mastered  slowly.  Those  who  can  not,  or 
will  not,  pretend  to  it,  must  at  the  same  time 
renounce  that  which  constitutes  the  greatness 
of  the  human  personality,  which  is,  liberty 
and  the  mastery  of  self. 

JULES  PAYOT. 

Bar-le-Duc,  January  12, 1894. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  TWENTY- 
SEVENTH  EDITION 

IN  thirteen  and  a  half  years  the  "Educa- 
tion of  the  Will"  has  reached  its  twenty- 
seventh  edition,  and  it  has  been  translated 
into  most  European  tongues.  Such  a  suc- 
cess proves  how  great  a  need  the  book  has 
filled.  The  publication  of  the  letters  which 
the  author  has  received  constitutes  a  docu- 
ment of  vital  interest  on  the  mental  attitude 
of  the  young  people  of  our  time. 

The  age  to  which  we  belong  is  conducive 
to  mental  unrest.  Neither  in  dogmas  nor  in- 
stitutions can  be  found  the  peace  of  mind 
which  comes  from  the  certitude  of  complete 
repose.  Even  Catholicism  itself,  which  at 
one  time  offered  a  secure  sanctuary  for  the 
unsettled  mind,  is  full  of  the  most  serious 
internal  dissensions. 

In  politics,  sociology  and  morals  no  prin- 
ciple remains  undiscust.  Secondary  educa- 
tion, knowing  nothing  of  the  will,  remains 
almost  exclusively  intellectual.  From  the 
moral  point  of  view,  it  is  an  ineffectual  com- 
promise between  precedent  and  innovation. 

[xxi] 


PREFACE  TO  TWENTY-SEVENTH  EDITION 

Young  people  start  in  life  with  a  handicap: 
they  have  not  been  trained  to  patience  long 
sustained,  to  disinterestedness,  to  methodical 
skepticism,  all  of  which  go  to  constitute  the 
philosophical  spirit. 

Their  tendency  is  toward  intolerance,  and 
this  because  the  great  doctrine  of  the  rela- 
tiveness  of  knowledge  has  not  penetrated 
their  practical  rule  of  life.  A  discipline  of 
liberty  has  not  instilled  in  them  the  habit  of 
looking  for  "the  soul  of  truth, "  which  gives 
birth  to  new  ideas.  They  take  sides  too  soon, 
and  from  that  moment  they  are  useless  for 
the  elaboration  of  superior  syntheses,  or,  in 
other  words,  for  the  search  after  truth. 

Every  man  should  apply  himself  with  all 
his  soul  to  the  truth.  It  is  in  this  that  free- 
dom consists — in  the  infusion  of  one's  per- 
sonal attitude  with  the  realities  of  life. 

To  be  free  means,  therefore,  that  one  real- 
izes the  laws  which  register  the  exterior  and 
interior  realities  of  life,  and  that  one  real- 
izes one's  self.  If  these  two  conditions  are  not 
fulfilled,  the  complete  and  harmonious  de- 
velopment of  the  personality  is  impossible. 

This  double  consciousness,  moreover,  can 


PREFACE  TO  TWENTY-SEVENTH  EDITION 

only  be  acquired  by  action.  In  observing  the 
effects  of  action  on  one's  self,  little  by  little 
the  cloak  of  prejudice  and  suggestion  which 
conceals  our  deeper  tendencies  is  penetrated, 
and  the  fundamental  ego  is  revealed.  Emer- 
son remarks  that  his  duty  is  something  which 
has  to  do  with  his  own  personality,  and  not 
with  the  opinions  of  others — a  rule  as  hard 
to  apply  in  the  practical  as  in  the  intellectual 
life,  but  which  can  take  the  place  of  all  dis- 
tinction between  greatness  and  littleness. 
We  must  therefore  have  a  distinct  conscious- 
ness of  ourselves  if  we  wish  to  fulfil  our 
personal  destiny  completely.  If  we  do  not 
know  ourselves,  we  become  the  sport  of  cir- 
cumstances, of  suggestions,  and  of  erroneous 
beliefs  which  mar  our  development  and  give 
it  a  direction  which  does  violence  to  our  fun- 
damental tendencies. 

Realizing  ourselves  and  taught  by  realities 
in  the  midst  of  which  we  move,  in  order  to 
fulfil  our  destiny  we  only  have  to  treat  with 
the  law  of  causation.  It  is  thus  with  the 
commander  of  a  vessel.  It  is  the  tendency  of 
the  waves  to  swallow  him  up ;  he  obliges  them 
to  support  him,  in  the  same  way  that  he  com- 

[xxiii] 


PREFACE  TO  TWENTY-SEVENTH  EDITION 

pels  a  contrary  wind  to  take  him  to  port. 
Not  only  does  reflex  action  lay  bare  our  fun- 
damental tendencies,  but  it  renders  almost 
tangible  the  great  moral  law  which  dominates 
our  social  structure.  The  expansion  of  my 
personality  and  the  proportionate  value  of 
my  cooperation  in  the  common  task  depend 
for  a  large  part  on  the  richness,  intellectual 
and  moral,  of  other  men.  My  highest  indi- 
vidual power  coincides  with  the  greatest  de- 
gree of  outside  support  and  of  justice. 

But  the  slow  exploration  of  our  funda- 
mental tendencies  and  the  intelligent  de- 
velopment of  our  will,  subjected  to  the  law  of 
cause  and  effect,  make  repose  necessary.  We 
must  resist  the  dilettante  habits  acquired  by 
an  early  encyclopedic  training;  we  must  re- 
sist the  terrifying  mental  dissipation  of  use- 
less reading,  and  the  trepidation  of  contem- 
porary life.  Tranquillity  is  required  before 
a  solution  will  form  into  crystals  of  regular 
beauty.  In  the  same  way,  we  need  meditation 
if  we  would  mold  our  fundamental  person- 
ality into  good,  energetic  habits. 

JULES  PAYOT. 

Chamouni,  April  10,  1907. 

[xxivj 


THEORETICAL    SECTION 

BOOK  I 
PRELIMINARIES 


THE  EVILS  TO  BE  OVERCOME 

The  Various  Forms  Under  Which  a  Weak  Will  Makes 
Itself  Manifest  in  the  Student  and  in  the  Intel- 
lectual Worker. 

CALIGULA  wished  that  all  the  Eomans  might 
have  had  only  one  head,  so  that  he  could 
decapitate  them  with  a  single  stroke.  It  is 
unnecessary  for  us  to  entertain  a  similar 
wish  concerning  the  enemies  we  have  to  com- 
bat, for  there  is  only  one  cause  of  almost  all 
our  failures  and  of  nearly  all  our  misfor- 
tunes. This  is  the  weakness  of  our  will, 
which  shows  itself  in  our  distaste  for  effort, 
especially  for  persistent  effort.  Our  passive- 
ness,  thoughtlessness  and  dissipation  of 
energy  are  only  so  many  names  to  designate 
the  depths  of  universal  laziness,  which  is  to  \^ 
human  nature  as  gravity  is  to  matter. 

The  only  real  antagonist  that  can  effect 
the  persevering  will  must  be  found  in  a  con- 
tinued force.     The  passions  are  by  nature 
transitory;  the  more  violent  they  are,  the 
[3] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

shorter  their  duration,  except  in  those  rather 
rare  cases  where  they  attain  a  fixity  and  a 
force  bordering  on  insanity,  therefore  their 
intermittent  character  does  not  permit  us  to 
consider  them  as  true  obstacles  to  continuity 
of  effort.  There  is  time  enough  between  the 
intervals  of  their  attacks  for  a  great  amount 
of  work.  The  real  obstacle  lies  in  a  funda- 
mental ever-present  state  of  the  mind  which 
may  be  called  effeminacy,  apathy,  idleness,  or 
laziness.  To  arouse  one's  self  constantly  to 
fresh  efforts  and  to  renew  daily  the  struggle 
against  this  natural  state  of  mind  is  the  only 
way  in  which  we  may  dare  hope  for  victory. 
We  call  this  state  of  mind  fundamental, 
but  we  may  as  well  call  it  natural.  Indeed, 
[any  continued  effort  is  not  kept  up  long  by 
I  man,  except  under  pressure  of  necessity. 
Travelers  are  unanimous  in  their  statements 
that,  among  uncivilized  races,  there  is  an 
absolute  incapacity  for  all  persevering  effort. 
M.  Eibot  thoughtfully  remarks  that  the  first 
efforts  of  voluntary  attention  were  probably 
effected  by  women  who  were  constrained  by 
fears  of  blows  to  regular  labor  while  their 
masters  rested  or  slept.  Have  we  not,  with 

[4] 


THE  EVILS  TO  BE  OVERCOME 

our  own  eyes,  seen  the  redskins  disappearing, 
preferring  to  be  exterminated  rather  than 
attempt  any  regular  labor  which  would  give 
them  a  greater  degree  of  comfort  in  life? 

Without  going  so  far  for  familiar  ex- 
amples, we  may  observe  how  slowly  a  child 
settles  down  to  regular  work.  How  few  are 
the  farmers  and  laborers  who  try  to  do  better 
work  than  that  which  was  done  before  their 
day,  or  that  which  is  being  done  by  their  fel- 
lows. You  may,  with  Spencer,  make  a  men- 
tal review  of  all  the  objects  which  you  use 
during  the  day,  and  you  will  find  that  there 
is  not  one  which  could  not  be  better  adapted 
to  the  use  which  is  made  of  it  by  some  slight 
effort  of  intelligence,  and  you  will  conclude 
with  the  author  ' '  that  it  really  seems  as  if  the 
aim  of  the  great  majority  was  to  get  through 
life  with  the  least  possible  outlay  of 
thought. " 

If  we  go  back  to  our  student  days,  how 
many  workers  could  we  cite  among  our  class- 
mates? Did  not  almost  all  put  forth  only 
the  minimum  effort  necessary  to  pass  their 
examinations?  And  since  those  college  days 
how  difficult  all  personal  effort  and  all  con- 

1*1 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

centrated  reflection  has  seemed !  In  all  coun- 
tries students  can  stand  well  in  examinations, 
by  the  simple  efforts  of  their  memory.  Their 
ideals,  alas!  are  not  very  high.  What  they 
desire,  as  M.  Maneuvrier  has  very  astutely 
remarked,  concerning  his  own  country, 
France,  are  "official  positions  which  are 
badly  salaried  and  of  little  account,  without 
any  future  or  horizon,  where  the  person  ages 
as  an  employee  and  daily  participates  in  the 
nothingness  of  an  almost  sterile  occupation, 
to  the  decay  and  gradual  numbing  of  his 
faculties,  but,  in  which  he  rejoices  unspeak- 
ably, in  not  being  obliged  to  think  or  decide 
or  act.  A  tutelary  regulation  impresses  on 
his  activity  the  regular  movements  of  a  clock, 
and  excuses  him  from  the  fatiguing  privilege 
of  acting  and  living. ' ' 

But  one  really  ought  not  to  put  all  the 
blame  upon  those  in  official  positions.  No 
profession,  no  career,  however  elevating  it 
may  be,  is  able  of  itself  to  safeguard  one's 
personality,  or  vigor,  or  energy.  During  the 
earlier  years  of  life  the  mind  is  capable  of 
very  active  exercises,  but  soon  the  number  of 
new  combinations,  the  number  and  the  pos- 
[6] 


THE  EVILS  TO  BE  OVERCOME 

sibility  of  the  cases  which  make  effort,  reflec- 
tion and  research  necessary  diminish.  The 
accomplishment  of  the  highest  functions 
which  apparently  demand  powerful  mental 
efforts,  becomes  purely  a  matter  of  habit. 
The  lawyer,  magistrate,  physician,  and  pro- 
fessor, all  live  on  an  acquired  fund  of  knowl- 
edge which  very  rarely  increases  and  then 
only  very  slowly.  The  desire  for  effort  di- 
minishes from  year  to  year,  and  from  year  to 
year  fewer  occasions  arise  which  would 
bring  these  superior  faculties  of  the  mind 
into  play.  Kuts  are  thus  formed  in  the  mind, 
the  intellect  becomes  deadened  for  lack  of 
exercise,  and  with  it  the  attention,  the  re- 
flective faculties  and  the  power  of  reasoning. 
If  one  does  not  cultivate  some  intellectual 
pursuits,  one  can  not  avoid  the  gradual  torpor 
which  will  steal  over  one's  energy. 

Now  as  our  book  is  addrest  chiefly  to  stu- 
dents and  intellectual  workers,  it  is  necessary 
to  examine  very  closely  the  forms  which  the 
"evil  to  combat"  takes  among  them. 

The  gravest  form  of  evil  among  students 
is  that  atony,  that  "languor  of  the  mind," 
which  manifests  itself  in  all  the  actions  of 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

the  young  man.  He  sleeps  several  hours  too 
long  and  gets  up  feeling  stupid,  dull  and  lazy. 
He  slowly  and  yawningly  makes  his  toilet, 
losing  thereby  considerable  time.  He  does 
not  feel  very  "fit,"  he  has  no  inclination  for 
work.  He  finds  this  a  sad  cold  world.  His 
laziness  is  apparent  on  his  very  face,  his 
languor  is  written  on  every  line  of  it,  his  man- 
ner is  vague,  dull  and  preoccupied;  there  is 
neither  vigor  nor  precision  in  his  movements. 
After  this  lost  time  he  lingers  over  his  break- 
fast, reading  the  newspaper  through  even  to 
the  advertisements,  because  that  occupies 
him  without  requiring  any  effort  on  his  part. 
In  the  afternoon,  however,  some  of  his  energy 
comes  back,  but  this  is  soon  wasted  in  gossip- 
ing, in  useless  discussions,  and,  what  is  worse 
(as  all  idlers  are  envious),  in  slander.  Poli- 
ticians, literary  men  and  professors  all  come 
in  for  their  share  of  his  criticism.  In  the  late 
evening  this  unfortunate  youth  retires  a  little 
more  irritable  than  he  was  the  night  before. 
For  this  atony  or  sloth,  with  which  he  ap- 
proaches his  work,  is  with  him  most  of  the 
time  in  his  pleasures.  No  joy  is  attained 
without  some  difficulty  in  this  world.  All 

[8] 


THE  EVILS  TO  BE  OVERCOME 

happiness  presupposes  some  effort.  To  read 
a  book,  to  visit  a  museum,  to  take  a  walk  in 
the  park,  are  pleasures  demanding  initiative. 
They  are  active  pleasures.  But  active  pleas- 
ures are  the  only  ones  which  count,  the  only 
ones  which  can  be  indefinitely  renewed  at 
one's  pleasure.  Lazy  people  inflict  upon 
themselves  the  emptiest  lives  imaginable. 
They  allow  pleasures  to  slip  through  their 
fingers,  because  it  is  too  much  trouble  to  close 
their  hand.  St.  Jerome  facetiously  compares 
them  to  wooden  soldiers  who  always  have 
their  swords  raised,  without  ever  striking  a 
blow. 

Fundamental  laziness  in  no  way  hinders 
periodic  instances  of  energy.  Uncivilized 
people  are  by  no  means  averse  to  occasional 
outbursts  of  energy.  What  is  so  distasteful 
to  them  is  that  regulated  persistent  labor 
which  in  the  end  amounts  to  a  very  superior 
degree  of  energy.  Any  regular  expenditure 
of  energy,  even  tho  it  be  slight,  accomplishes 
more  than  great  efforts  separated  by  long 
rests.  Idlers  can  readily  endure  war,  which 
demands  momentary  violent  efforts,  followed 
by  long  periods  of  inactivity.  The  Arabs 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

conquered  a  vast  empire,  but  they  did  not 
hold  it,  because  they  were  not  able  to  keep 
up  the  continued  effort  of  organizing  and  ad- 
ministrating the  country,  such  as  making 
roads,  and  founding  schools  and  industries. 
Even  lazy  students,  when  whipt  up  by  the  ap- 
proach of  an  examination,  are  able  to  buckle 
down  to  slight  but  steady  exertion,  which  has 
to  be  kept  up,  every  day  for  months  and 
years.  It  is  so  true  that  moderate,  but  con- 
tinued, effort  alone  expresses  real  and  fruit- 
ful energy,  that  we  may  consider  all  work 
deviating  from  this  type  as  lazy  work.  It 
goes  without  saying  that  continued  work  im- 
plies continuity  of  direction.  Therefore  the 
energy  of  the  will  expresses  itself  less  by  mul- 
tiple efforts  than  by  the  direction  of  all  the 
forces  of  the  mind  down  to  hard  work,  but 
what  they  hate  is  that  toward  one  definite  end. 
Here  is  a  type  of  laziness  that  is  very  fre- 
quent. A  young  man  is  lively,  gay  and  ener- 
getic; he  is  rarely  idle.  During  the  day  he 
reads  some  treatise  on  geology,  an  article  by 
Brunetiere  on  Eacine;  he  glances  through 
several  journals ;  rereads  some  notes ;  makes 
a  rough  sketch  of  a  theme,  and  translates  a 

[10] 


THE  EVILS  TO  BE  OVERCOME 

few  pages  of  a  foreign  language.  He  has  not 
been  indolent  for  a  single  moment.  His  com- 
rades admire  his  working  power  and  the 
variety  of  his  occupations.  Yet  we  must 
brand  this  young  man  as  a  lazy  student.  To 
the  psychologist,  this  great  variety  of  work 
simply  indicates  a  certain  spontaneous  atten- 
tion, rich  in  its  ability,  but  which  has  not  as 
yet  become  voluntary  attention.  This  appar- 
ent power  for  varied  work  means  nothing 
more  than  a  great  weakness  of  the  will.  Our 
student  furnishes  us  a  very  common  type  of 
laziness  which  we  may  call  the  disseminated 
type.  Such  "mental  excursions"1  are  truly 
delightful,  but  they  are  only  pleasure  strolls. 
Nicolle  describes  those  workers  who  flit  here 
and  there  to  no  purpose  as  having  "buzzing 
minds. "  They  are,  to  recall  Fenelon's  simile, 
"like  a  lighted  candle  set  in  a  windy  place. " 
The  great  disadvantage  in  scattering  one's 
efforts  is  due  to  the  fact,  that  no  impression 
has  time  enough  to  become  permanent.  We 
may  lay  it  down  as  an  absolute  law  control- 
ling all  intellectual  work,  that  if  we  treat  all 
the  ideas  and  feelings  which  come  into  our 

i  Leibnitz,  < '  Theodicee, "  Section  56. 
[11] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

minds,  as  if  they  were  transient  guests  in  a 
hotel,  they  will  never  be  more  than  strangers 
to  us,  and  will  soon  be  forgotten.  We  shall 
see,  in  the  following  chapter,  that  true  intel- 
lectual work  requires  that  all  our  efforts 
should  be  put  forth  in  a  single  direction. 

This  distaste  for  real  effort,  that  is  to  say, 
for  the  coordination  of  all  efforts  toward  a 
certain  definite  aim,  is  complicated  by  an 
equally  strong  aversion  for  personal  effort. 
Indeed,  it  is  one  thing  to  bring  forth  a  crea- 
tive work  or  an  invention,  and  another  to 
store  in  one 's  memory  that  which  others  have 
done.  Moreover,  if  personal  effort  is  difficult 
it  is  because  it  necessarily  implies  coordina- 
tion. The  two  supreme  forms  of  intellectual 
labor  are  inseparably  united  in  the  work  of 
creation.  It  is  therefore  easy  to  understand 
how  distasteful  such  work  must  be  to  the  great 
majority  of  pupils,  who  may,  nevertheless, 
to-morrow  be  made  class  presidents. 

Students  of  philosophy,  for  example,  are 
good  pupils  so  long  as  they  are  stimulated  by 
the  final  examinations.  They  work  hard  and 
are  generally  accurate  in  their  work.  Un- 
fortunately, however,  they  do  not  reflect  at 

[12] 


THE  EVILS  TO  BE  OVERCOME 

all.  Their  laziness  of  spirit  is  shown  by  their 
proclivity  to  think  with  words,  but  nothing 
more.  Thus,  in  studying  psychology  it  never 
enters  their  heads  that  they  have  been  ma- 
king practical  psychology  from  the  day  of 
their  birth  to  the  present  time,  just  as  M. 
Jourdain  found  that  he  had  been  "speaking 
prose  without  knowing  it."  It  would  be 
infinitely  more  simple  to  examine  themselves 
and  to  discover  personal  examples  instead  of 
committing  to  memory  those  cited  in  their 
books.  But  no,  they  have  an  invincible  tend- 
ency to  memorize  rather  than  to  seek  for 
themselves.  The  enormous  amount  which 
they  are  thus  obliged  to  stuff  into  their  mem- 
ories frightens  them  less  than  the  slightest 
personal  effort.  They  are  nothing,  if  not 
passive.  Of  course  one  must  make  some  ex- 
ceptions, tho  they  are  few,  of  the  best  among 
the  good  students. 

The  experimental  test  for  this  incapacity 
of  effort  is  furnished  in  France  by  the  three 
monthly  examinations  for  first  place.  The 
majority  of  students  dread  this  exercise.  To 
write  a  theme  on  a  subject  where  one  is  not 
required  to  make  any  original  investigations, 

[13] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

but  merely  to  rearrange  the  material  fur- 
nished by  the  lecturer  according  to  a  new 
plan;  to  set  forth  one's  exposition  with  that 
neatness  and  orderly  precision  which  the  ex- 
aminer requires,  is,  to  say  the  least,  a 
thoroughly  unpleasant  task. 

Naturally,  this  fairly  wide-spread  aversion 
to  personal  effort  accompanies  the  student  to 
the  university,  without,  however,  any  dispar- 
agement to  him,  as  no  examination  takes  the 
candidate's  personal  worth  into  considera- 
tion. It  registers  only  the  status  of  his 
memory,  and  the  level,  or  rather  the  low- 
water  mark,  reached  by  the  things  he  knows. 
Any  conscientious  student  who  reflects  at  all 
must  acknowledge  to  himself  how  small  a 
sum  of  effort  is  put  forth  during  the  year  in 
any  direction,  except  that  of  memorizing  facts 
of  medicine,  law,  natural  science,  or  history. 

It  is  also  curious  to  note  the  subtle  forms 
under  which  laziness  manifests  itself  in 
learned  men.  Laziness,  it  must  be  under- 1 
stood,  may  often  accompany  great  labor  and 
prodigious  undertakings,  for  quantity  does 
not  by  any  means  make  up  for  lack  of  quality. 
Furthermore,  the  quantity  of  work  is  often 

[14] 


THE  EVILS  TO  BE  OVERCOME 

prejudicial  to  its  quality.  For  example, 
scholars  freely  scoff  at  philosophers,  yet  it 
is  for  them  that,  like  "Batto"  the  cat  of  the 
fable,  they  pull  the  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire. 
"Batto"  is  the  symbol  of  erudite  work: 

.     .     .     "And  thrust  out  his  paw  in  a  delicate  way. 

First  giving  the  ashes  a  scratch, 

He  opened  the  coveted  batch; 

Then  lightly  and  quickly  impinging 

He  drew  out,  in  spite  of  the  singeing, 

One  after  another,  the  chestnuts  at  last, 

While  Bertrand  continued  to  devour  them  as  fast. ' '  *  .  .  . 

Such  work  is  the  kind  which  one  can  take 
up  and  put  down  at  pleasure.  By  constantly 
having  texts  to  refer  to,  the  mind  does  not 
need  to  do  any  creative  work;  it  can  study 
profitably  even  when  it  has  lost  its  fine 
powers  of  penetration.  Time  will,  perhaps, 
confirm  the  prophecies  of  Benan  concerning 
the  purely  erudite  sciences.  These  have  no 
future,  their  results  are  uncertain  and  always 
open  to  controversy;  and,  what  is  more,  the 
twenty  thousand  works  which  are  yearly  piled 
up  in  the  National  Library  of  Paris,  without 
counting  the  journals  and  periodicals,  will  in 

i  From  La  Fontaine 's  Fable,  translated  by  Elizur  Wright, 
Jr. 

[15] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

fifty  years  add  a  million  volumes  to  the  pres- 
ent collection.  A  million  volumes !  Allowing 
half  an  inch  for  the  average  thickness  of  a 
volume,  it  would  make  a  pile  four  times  the 
height  of  Mont  Blanc !  Will  history,  little  by 
little,  get  rid  of  its  proper  names  and  devote 
itself  to  great  social  movements  whose  causes 
and  effects  are  always  hypothetic,  and  will 
pure  erudition,  smothered  under  the  mass  of 
its  own  material,  lose  its  power  over  the 
thinking  mind?  Less  and  less  will  mere  ac- 
cumulation be  considered  work.  The  time  will 
come  when  such  tasks  will  be  called  by  their 
real  name,  tasks.  The  word  work  will  be 
reserved  for  the  putting  forth  of  real  energy, 
the  elimination  of  trifling  details,  and  for  that 
concentration  which  produces  supreme  effort 
of  thought.  To  create  in  reality  means  to 
conceive  an  idea  in  its  essential  entirety  and 
to  bring  it  forth  to  the  light  of  day.  To 
magnify  trifling  details  only  obscures  the 
truth,  and  to  the  practised  eye  such  a  tend- 
ency indicates  in  some  way  that  certain 
traces  of  that  inherent  laziness  which  is  in 
all  of  us  are  mingled  even  with  our  bursts  of 
intellectual  energy. 

[16] 


THE  EVILS  TO  BE  OVERCOME 

It  must  be  admitted,  alas !  that  the  system 
of  instruction,  in  France  at  least,  tends  to 
aggravate  this  fundamental  intellectual  lazi- 
ness. The  schedule  of  study  in  the  under- 
graduate courses  seems  devised  to  turn  every 
student  into  a  "  scatter-brain. "  It  obliges 
these  unfortunate  youths  to  skim  over  every- 
thing, and,  by  reason  of  the  variety  of  subjects 
to  be  absorbed,  it  prevents  them  from  follow- 
ing any  idea  to  its  source.  How  is  a  young  man 
to  find  out  that  such  a  system  of  preparatory 
education  is  absurd?  Yet  it  tends  to  kill  his 
initiative  and  to  destroy  all  disposition  to  be 
loyal  in  his  work.  A  few  years  ago  the  power 
of  the  French  artillery  was  mediocre,  to-day 
it  is  ten  times  stronger.  Why?  Because  the 
shell  used  to  explode  when  it  struck  the  ob- 
stacle and  would  go  off  without  doing  any 
great  damage,  but  now,  by  the  invention  of  a 
special  detonator,  the  shell,  after  it  has  struck 
continues  to  move  for  a  few  seconds,  pene- 
trating into  the  very  heart  of  the  place  of 
attack,  and  there,  in  close  contact  with  every 
part,  it  explodes,  grinding  and  pulverizing 
everything  to  pieces.  In  our  practical  educa- 
tion we  have  forgotten  to  add  a  detonator  to 

[17] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

the  mind.  Our  acquired  knowledge  is  not 
allowed  to  penetrate  profoundly.  We  would 
like  to  stop  a  moment,  but  we  are  urged  to 
continue.  We  did  not  quite  grasp  the  point ; 
the  professor's  idea  is  not  clear  to  us.  But 
like  another  wandering  Jew,  we  are  compelled 
to  keep  on  the  move.  We  have  yet  to  go 
through  mathematics,  physics,  chemistry, 
zoology,  botany,  geology,  the  history  of  every 
nation,  the  geography  of  five  continents,  two 
living  languages,  several  literatures,  psychol- 
ogy, logic,  moral  philosophy,  metaphysics, 
and  the  history  of  philosophical  systems.  On, 
on,  we  press  on  toward  mediocrity  and  issue 
from  our  Alma  Mater  with  the  habit  of  study- 
ing superficially  and  judging  everything  by 
appearances. 

This  rapid  pace  is  hardly  lessened  even 
in  the  university,  and,  for  many  students,  be- 
comes even  more  rapid. 

In  addition,  it  must  be  remembered  that 
the  conditions  of  modern  life  tend  to  reduce 
our  spiritual  life  to  nothing,  and  bring  about 
mental  distractions  to  a  degree  that  can 
hardly  be  surpassed.  Ease  of  communication, 
frequency  of  journeys,  the  habit  of  going  to 

[18] 


THE  EVILS  TO  BE  OVERCOME 

the  mountains,  or  the  sea,  all  dissipate  our 
thoughts.  There  is  not  even  time  to  read. 
One  lives  a  life  that  is  full  of  excitement  and 
yet,  at  the  same  time,  empty.  The  daily 
papers,  the  artificial  excitement  they  give  to 
the  mind,  the  ease  with  which  their  items  of 
news  lead  the  interest  through  various  hap- 
penings in  five  continents  make  the  reading 
of  books  seem  dull  to  many  people. 

How  shall  we  resist  this  dissipation  of 
mental  energy  which  leads  to  mediocrity, 
when  there  has  been  nothing  in  our  education 
to  prepare  us  for  such  resistance?  Is  it  not 
discouraging  to  think  that  the  most  impor- 
tant thing,  the  education  of  the  will,  is  no- 
where directly  and  consciously  taught!  All 
that  is  done  in  this  direction  is  done  incident- 
ally, with  a  view  to  something  else.  We  pay 
no  attention  to  anything  but  to  the  stocking 
up  of  our  minds,  and  the  will  is  cultivated 
only  so  far  as  it  may  be  useful  in  intellectual 
work.  Cultivated,  did  I  say?  I  mean  stimu- 
lated,— that  is  all.  No  student  looks  beyond 
the  present.  To-day  he  is  working  under  a 
system  of  repression  and  stimulation ;  on  the 
one  hand,  the  professor  censures;  there  are 

[19] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

jibes  and  jokes  from  one's  companions,  and 
penalties  for  poor  work;  on  the  other,  re- 
wards and  praise.  The  morrow  holds  nothing 
but  a  vague  far-away  glimpse  of  an  approach- 
ing examination  for  the  bar,  or  for  a  medical 
degree,  which,  even  the  laziest  students, 
somehow  manage  to  pass.  The  education  of 
the  will  gets  little  attention,  and  yet,  is 
it  not  through  his  energy  alone  that  a  man 
is  able  to  round  out  his  life?  Are  not  his 
most  brilliant  gifts  barren  without  inward 
strength!  Is  not  the  energy  of  the  will  the 
most  powerful  factor  in  every  great  or  noble 
thing  that  men  accomplish? 

Strange  to  say,  everybody  says  just  what 
we  are  saying  here.  Everybody  feels 
the  disproportion  between  the  excessive 
culture  of  the  mind  and  weakness  of  the 
will.  But  no  book  has  yet  appeared  tell- 
ing just  how  the  education  of  the  will  should 
be  conducted.  A  man  hardly  knows  how  to 
start  by  himself  upon  this  work  which  his 
professors  have  not  even  outlined  for  him. 
Ask  any  ten  students,  taken  at  random  from 
among  those  who  are  doing  but  little  work, 
and  their  confessions  will  practically  amount 

[20] 


THE  EVILS  TO  BE  OVERCOME 

to  this.  When  we  were  at  school  the  professor 
laid  out  the  work  which  we  were  to  do  each 
day,  even  each  hour.  Our  lessons  were 
clearly  and  definitely  assigned.  We  had  to 
study  such  a  chapter  of  history,  such  a 
theorem  in  geometry,  to  write  such  an  exer- 
cise and  translate  such  a  passage.  Further- 
more, we  were  helped  and  encouraged,  or  per- 
haps reprimanded.  Our  ambition  was  easily 
aroused  and  kept  up.  Now  everything  is  dif- 
ferent. We  have  no  definite  set  tasks.  We 
spend  our  time  according  to  our  tastes.  As 
we  have  never  been  taught  to  take  any  initia- 
tive in  planning  our  work,  which,  moreover, 
was  always  made  easy  and  adapted  to  our 
weaknesses,  we  are  exactly  like  men  who  are 
thrown  into  deep  water  after  having  been 
taught  to  swim  with  a  swimming-belt.  We 
shall  certainly  sink,  there  is  no  question  about 
that.  We  neither  know  how  to  work,  nor  how 
to  make  ourselves  work.  We  do  not  know 
where  to  go  to  learn  the  method  by  which  we 
can  undertake  by  ourselves  the  education  of 
our  will,  there  is  no  practical  book  on  this 
subject.  So  we  have  become  resigned  and  we 
try  not  to  think  of  "  flunking "  in  our  exam- 
[21] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

illations.  It  is  too  depressing.  But  then 
there  are  the  societies  and  clubs  and  plenty 
of  jolly  good  fellows  to  keep  our  spirits  up. 
Time  will  pass  just  the  same. 

It  is  this  book  which  so  many  young  peo- 
ple complain  of  not  having  that  we  have 
tried  to  write. 


[22] 


n 


THE  AIM  TO  PURSUE 

ALTHO  the  college  curriculum  ignores  the 
will,  we  feel  that  we  value  ourselves  only  in 
proportion  to  our  energy,  and  that  we  never 
can  rely  upon  a  man  who  is  weak.  Neverthe- 
less, on  the  other  hand,  knowing  that  our 
efforts  show  the  approximate  measure  of  the 
strength  of  our  will,  we  hardly  care  to  be 
judged  by  that  standard.  We  exaggerate  the 
amount  of  work  which  we  do.  It  is  very  easy 
for  a  student  to  say  that  he  rises  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  knowing  that  no  one 
is  likely  to  do  him  the  injustice  of  coming  to 
investigate  his  statements.  But  when  you 
happen  in  upon  this  heroic  worker  at  eight 
o  'clock  and  find  him  still  in  bed,  you  will  note 
that  every  one  of  your  rare  visits  will  coincide 
with  some  unusual  occurrence,  such  as  an 
evening  at  the  theater,  or  a  dance,  which  ex- 
plains the  fact  of  his  not  being  at  work  at 
four  in  the  morning.  Meanwhile,  you  will 
have  noticed  that  this  prodigious  worker  has 
failed  in  his  examinations. 

[23] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

There  is  no  other  subject  among  students 
about  which  so  many  fibs  are  told.  What  is 
more,  there  is  no  young  man  who  does  not 
deceive  himself,  and  who  does  not  entertain 
delightful  illusions  concerning  his  own  work 
and  his  capacity  for  putting  forth  great 
efforts.  But  what  are  these  very  ties  if  not 
a  homage  paid  to  the  great  truth  that  a  per- 
son's worth  depends  on  his  energy! 

Any  doubts  entertained  by  others  concern- 
ing our  will  power  wound  us  cruelly.  To 
question  our  power  to  work,  is  as  bad  as 
accusing  us  of  weakness  and  cowardice.  Are 
we  not  relegated  to  a  hopeless  mediocrity  if 
we  are  considered  incapable  of  that  power  of 
persevering  effort,  without  which  one  can 
not  hope  to  rise  above  the  intellectual  poverty 
of  the  majority  of  men  who  encumber  the  so- 
called  liberal  professions. 

This  indirect  homage  paid  to  work  proves 
the  existence  of  a  desire  for  energy  among 
students.  The  only  object  of  this  book  is  to 
examine  the  methods,  by  the  use  of  which  a 
young  man  of  vacillating  inclinations  may 
strengthen  himself  in  the  desire  to  work  until 
it  is  transformed,  first  into  firm,  ardent  and 

[24] 


THE  AIM  TO  PURSUE 


lasting  resolutions,  and  finally  into  invincible 
habits. 

By  intellectual  work  we  understand  either 
the  study  of  nature  and  the  works  of  other 
men,  or  personal  productions.  The  work  of 
production  first  presupposes  study  and  in- 
cludes all  kinds  of  intellectual  effort.  For 
the  first  kind  of  work,  the  instrument  of  labor 
is  attention  properly  so  called ;  for  the  second, 
meditation  or  concentration.  In  both  cases 
it  is  simply  a  question  of  attention.  Work 
means  attention.  Unfortunately  attention  is 
not  a  stable,  fixt,  and  lasting  condition.  It 
can  not  be  compared  to  a  bow  in  constant 
tension,  but  consists  rather  in  a  repeated 
number  of  efforts  in  which  the  tension  is  more 
or  less  intense,  and  which  follow  one  another 
with  greater  or  less  rapidity.  In  energetic 
and  disciplined  attention,  efforts  succeed  each 
other  so  closely  as  to  give  the  effect  of  con- 
tinuity, and  this  apparent  continuity  may  last 
a  few  hours  each  day.  Hence  the  object  of 
our  endeavor  is  to  be  able  to  put  forth  some 
effort  of  intense  and  persevering  attention. 

Unquestionably  one  of  the  best  ways  in 
which  we  may  cultivate  self-control  is  cour- 

[25] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

ageously  to  set  for  ourselves  some  daily  task 
that  is  difficult.  Youth,  in  its  exuberance, 
is  constantly  inclined  to  give  predominance 
to  the  animal  life  over  that  which  appears  to 
be  the  dull  unnatural  life  of  the  majority  of 
intellectual  workers. 

But  strenuous  and  persevering  efforts  are 
not  in  themselves  sufficient;  they  may  be  of 
the  undisciplined  and  wandering  type.  They 
must,  therefore,  first  of  all  be  directed  toward 
the  same  end.  There  are  certain  conditions 
of  intimacy,  continuance  and  repetition  which 
are  necessary  if  an  idea,  or  feeling,  is  to  gain 
a  foothold  in  our  minds  and  remain  with  us. 

These  ideas  and  feelings  must  gradually 
extend  their  sphere  of  influence,  and  widen 
their  circle  of  relationships,  and  thus  little  by 
little  make  their  own  personal  value  felt. 
This  is  how  works  of  art  are  created.  Some 
thought,  often  a  living  thought  of  youth,  lies 
obscurely  hidden  within  a  man  of  genius. 
Something  that  he  reads,  some  incident  in  life, 
a  happy  expression  uttered  carelessly  by 
some  author  interested  in  other  things,  or 
not  familiar  with  that  kind  of  thinking,  but 
who  perceives  the  idea  without  understanding 

[26] 


THE  AIM  TO  PURSUE 


its  fecundity,  any  one  of  these  gives  to  the 
brooding  idea  a  consciousness  of  its  value 
and  of  its  possible  role.  Henceforth,  this 
idea  will  draw  nourishment  from  everything. 
Travel,  conversation,  varied  reading  will 
supply  the  assimilable  elements,  on  which  it 
will  glut  and  grow  strong.  Thus  Goethe  car- 
ried the  conception  of  Faust  in  his  mind  for 
thirty  years.  It  took  all  that  time  to  germi- 
nate and  grow  and  push  its  roots  deeper  and 
deeper,  and  to  draw  from  experience  the 
nourishing  elements  on  which  this  master- 
piece was  developed. 

This  ought  to  be  the  case,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, with  all  important  ideas.  If  the  idea 
only  passes  through  us,  it  will  be  null  and 
void.  It  is  necessary  to  give  it  repeated,  fre- 
quent, and  careful  attention.  Care  should 
be  taken,  not  to  abandon  it  before  it  can  live 
independently,  or  before  it  has  formed  an 
organized  center  of  its  own.  It  should  for  a 
long  time  be  kept  in  mind  and  often  referred 
to.  In  this  way  it  will  acquire  a  vitality 
strong  enough  to  attract  fertile  thoughts  and 
feelings,  which  it  will  make  a  part  of  itself 
by  that  mysterious  magnetic  power  called 

[27] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

association  of  ideas.  This  work  of  the  organi- 
zation of  the  idea,  or  sentiment,  is  slowly 
accomplished  by  calm  and  patient  meditation. 
Such  developments  may  be  compared  to  the 
wonderful  crystals  formed  in  the  laboratory, 
which  require  the  slow  and  regular  deposit 
of  thousands  of  molecules  in  the  midst  of  an 
absolutely  still  fluid.  It  is  in  this  sense  that 
all  discoveries  are  the  product  of  the  will. 
It  was  "by  constant  thinking  about  it"  that 
Newton  verified  his  discovery  of  universal 
gravitation.  If  there  is  still  any  doubt  that 
genius  is  nothing  but  "eternal  patience,"  let 
us  listen  to  Darwin's  confession:  "For  my 
meditation  and  reading  I  select  only  those 
rsubjects  which  make  me  think  directly  of 
what  I  have  seen,  or  of  what  I  shall  probably 
see.  I  am  sure  that  it  was  this  discipline 
which  made  me  capable  of  doing  what  I  have 
done  in  science. ' '  His  son  adds :  1 1  My  father 
had  the  ability  to  keep  a  subject  in  mind  for 
a  great  number  of  years  without  ever  losing 
sight  of  it."1 

But  what  is  the  use  of  insisting  upon  such 
a  self-evident  truth  ?    We  may  as  well  sum  up 

i  Life  and  Correspondence  of  Charles  Darwin. 

[28] 


THE  AIM  TO  PURSUE 


our  points.  The  object  to  be  sought  by  the 
intellectual  worker  is  the  energy  of  voluntary 
attention,  an  energy  which  expresses  itself 
not  only  in  the  vigor  and  frequency  of  effort, 
but  also,  and  above  all,  in  the  perfect  direc- 
tion of  all  our  thoughts  toward  one  single 
end,  and  by  a  subordination,  for  the  time  be- 
ing, of  our  volition,  feelings,  and  ideas  to  the 
directing,  dominating  idea  for  which  we  are 
striving.  Human  laziness  will  always  be 
tempting  us  away  from  this  ideal,  but  we  must 
strive  to  realize  it  as  completely  as  possible. 
Before  considering  the  means  of  transform- 
ing a  weak,  vacillating  desire  into  a  lasting 
volition,  it  is  important  to  get  rid  of  two 
philosophical  theories,  which,  tho  in  opposi- 
tion to  each  other,  are  equally  disastrous  to 
the  achievement  of  such  self-mastery. 


[29] 


Ill 


DISCOURAGING  AND  FALSE  THEORIES  CON- 
CERNING THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

A  POLEMIC  should  be  nothing  more  than  a 
piece  of  preparatory  work  which  the  writer 
should  execute  carefully,  but  which  he  should 
keep  to  himself.  Nothing  is  more  powerless 
than  pure  negation.  Constructive  argument 
is  the  only  thing  of  value,  criticism  is  useless. 

Therefore,  because  our  book  is  a  work  of 
instruction,  and  because  it  sets  forth  a  sound 
doctrine  that  is  firmly  established  on  definite 
psychological  data,  we  shall  here  attack  two 
wide-spread  theories  which  are  as  deplorable 
in  their  practical  results  as  they  are  false  in 
their  speculations. 

The  theory  which  considers  character  as 
unchangeable  is  false  in  itself  and  regrettable 
in  practise.  This  hypothesis,  set  forth  by 
Kant  and  repeated  by  Schopenhauer,  is  sup- 
ported by  Spencer. 

According  to  Kant,  we  have  chosen  our 
character  in  the  noumenal  world  and  our 

[30] 


DISCOURAGING  AND  FALSE  THEORIES 

choice  is  irrevocable.  Once  i '  descended ' '  into 
the  world  of  space  and  time  our  characters, 
and  consequently  our  wills,  must  remain  as 
they  are,  without  our  being  able  in  the  slight- 
est degree  to  modify  them. 

Schopenhauer  also  declares  that  different 
characteristics  are  innate  and  immutable.  It 
is  impossible,  for  example,  to  change  the 
nature  of  the  motives  which  affect  the  will  of 
an  egotist.  You  may  by  means  of  education 
deceive  him  or,  better  still,  correct  his  ideas 
and  lead  him  to  understand  that  the  surest 
way  to  attain  prosperity  is  by  work  and  hon- 
esty, and  not  by  knavery.  But  as  to  render- 
ing his  soul  sensible  to  the  suffering  of  others, 
that  idea  must  be  renounced.  That  would  be 
more  difficult  than  turning  lead  into  gold. 
"We  may  convince  an  egotist  that,  giving  up 
a  small  profit,  he  may  gain  a  much  larger 
one;  or  we  may  convince  a  wicked  man  that, 
by  causing  pain  to  others,  he  may  inflict  worse 
pain  upon  himself.  But  as  for  convincing 
them  of  the  wrong  of  such  selfishness  and  de- 
pravity in  themselves,  you  can  no  more  do 
it  than  you  can  prove  to  a  cat  that  it  is  wrong 
to  like  mice." 

[31] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

Herbert  Spencer  takes  quite  a  different 
view.  He  agrees  with  the  English  school  that, 
under  certain  external  forces,  the  human 
character  can  after  a  time  be  transformed 
along  general  lines  by  the  force  of  external 
circumstances  and  varying  conditions  in  life. 
But  such  work  requires  centuries.  This 
theory  is  discouraging  in  practise,  because  I, 
as  a  student,  can  not  calculate  on  living  ten 
centuries.  I  can  at  most  rely  on  only  twenty 
years  of  plasticity.  Even  if  I  wanted  to  set 
to  work  on  my  own  moral  amelioration  I  could 
not  do  it.  I  could  not  struggle  against  the 
character  and  heritage  which  were  bequeathed 
to  me  by  my  ancestors,  and  which  represent 
thousands,  and  perhaps  millions,  of  years  of 
experience  organically  recorded  in  my  brain. 
What  could  I  do  against  a  formidable  com- 
bination of  ancestors ;  as  soon  as  I  try  to  rid 
myself  of  a  part  of  the  inheritance  trans- 
mitted to  me,  they  array  themselves  against 
my  feeble  personal  will.  It  would  be  un- 
reasonable even  to  attempt  insurrection.  De- 
feat from  the  start  would  be  certain.  I  may, 
however,  console  myself  by  dreaming  that, 
in  fifty  thousand  years,  my  descendants,  by 

[32] 


DISCOURAGING  AND  FALSE  THEORIES 

the  continued  influence  of  social  environment 
upon  heredity,  will  resemble  so  many  per- 
fected machines,  wound  up  through  the 
ages,  and  will  grind  out  devotion,  initiative 
spirit,  etc. 

Altho  the  question  of  character,  seen  from 
this  point  of  view,  lies  outside  the  limit  of  our 
subject,  we  must  nevertheless  examine  it  in 
its  general  aspects,  in  order  to  find  out  our 
adversaries'  strongest  position. 

The  theories  which  we  have  just  stated 
seem  to  us  to  show  a  remarkable  example  of 
that  mental  laziness,  which,  like  original  sin, 
is  ineffaceable  from  the  greatest  intellects ;  a 
mental  inactivity  which  makes  them  submit 
passively  to  the  suggestion  of  language.  We 
are  all  accustomed  to  think  with  words,  but 
they  often  conceal  from  us  the  reality  of 
which  they  are  only  the  symbols.  Because 
the  word  itself  is  an  entity,  we  are  strongly 
inclined  to  believe  in  the  real  unity  of  the 
things  it  stands  for.  It  is  to  this  suggestion, 
provoked  by  the  word  character,  that  we  owe 
the  lazy  theory  of  the  immutability  of  char- 
acter. But  who,  for  that  matter,  does  not  see 
that  character  is  only  a  resultant?  But  a 

[33] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

resultant  of  forces  is  always  subject  to  modifi- 
cation. Our  character  has  a  unity  analogous 
to  that  of  Europe.  The  chance  of  alliances,  or 
the  prosperity  or  decadence  of  one  state,  con- 
stantly modifies  the  resultant.  The  same  is 
true  of  our  passions,  sentiments  and  ideas 
which  are  perpetually  growing,  and  which,  by 
the  alliances  which  they  contract  or  break,  can 
change  the  intensity,  and  even  the  direction, 
of  the  resultant.  Our  treatise  will,  further- 
more, demonstrate  the  possibility  of  the 
transformation  of  character. 

If  we  examine  the  arguments  in  favor  of  the 
theory,  we  find  in  Kant  only  a  priori  views, 
and  these  a  priori  views,  which  he  thought 
necessary  for  the  foundation  of  the  possibility 
of  liberty,  would  have  been  cut  out  of  the 
system  like  a  decayed  branch,  had  not  Kant, 
as  we  shall  see,  confounded  fatalism  with 
determinism. 

In  Schopenhauer  we  find  more  citations  of 
moral  failures  than  arguments.  He  is  very 
fond  of  showing  his  erudition  by  piling  up 
authorities.  The  smallest  evidence  of  fact 
will  always  outweigh  authority.  Here  are 
the  sole  arguments  we  can  find  in  his  works : 

[34] 


DISCOURAGING  AND  FALSE  THEORIES 

(1)  If  character  were  able  to  be  improved, 
"one  ought  to  find  much  more  virtue  among 
the  older  members  of  humanity  than  in  the 
younger, ' '  which  is  not  the  case.  (2 )  He  who 
has  once  shown  himself  to  be  wicked  has  for- 
ever lost  our  confidence,  which  proves  that 
we  all  believe  character  to  be  unchangeable. 

Of  what  value  are  such  arguments  to  any 
one  who  reflects  1  Are  they  arguments  at  all  I 
What  is  there  in  these  assertions,  however 
exact  as  a  whole,  that  proves  that  no  one  can 
modify  his  character?  They  only  prove  (and 
that  does  not  apply  to  every  one)  that  the 
great  majority  has  never  really  and  seriously 
undertaken  any  reform  of  character.  They 
state  that  one's  natural  propensities  take 
care  of  most  matters  of  life,  without  the  in- 
tervention of  the  will.  The  majority  of  man- 
kind is  governed  by  external  influences.  They 
follow  custom  and  public  opinion,  no  more 
thinking  of  resisting  than  we  would  dream  of 
refusing  to  follow  the  earth  in  its  movements 
around  the  sun.  Is  it  we  who  raise  the  ques- 
tion of  this  almost  universal  idleness?  The 
majority  of  men  spend  their  lives  in  getting 
the  means  of  subsistence.  Day-laborers,  the 

[35] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

poor,  the  worldly  minded,  and  women  and 
children  scarcely  reflect  at  all.  They  are 
"  marionettes, "  somewhat  complicated  and 
conscious,  but  whose  movements  are  all  gov- 
erned by  impulses  springing  from  involuntary 
desires  and  external  suggestions.  Kising 
from  the  animal  level  by  slow  evolution, 
under  pressure  of  the  stern  necessity  of  the 
struggle  for  existence,  the  majority  show 
a  tendency  toward  retrogression  as  soon 
as  external  circumstances  cease  to  stimulate 
them.  Those  who  possess  no  ardent  thirst 
for  the  ideal,  nor  a  certain  nobility  of  mind 
which  shall  furnish  any  inner  reason  for 
pursuing  the  difficult  task  of  gradually  ri- 
sing above  their  animal  natures,  allow  them- 
selves to  drift.  There  is,  therefore,  nothing 
surprizing  in  the  statement  that  the  number 
of  virtuous  old  men  does  not  surpass  the 
number  of  virtuous  young  men,  and  that  one 
has  a  perfect  right  to  mistrust  a  man  who 
has  proved  himself  a  rogue. 

This  argument  of  Schopenhauer  would  be 
valid  if  we  could  prove  that  all  struggle  is 
useless ;  that  a  selfish  man,  in  spite  of  want- 
ing to  do  so,  has  never  been  able  to  make  any 

[36] 


DISCOURAGING  AND  FALSE  THEORIES 

great  self-sacrifices.  Such  a  statement  is 
hardly  worth  considering.  One  sees  cowards 
facing  death  for  the  sake  of  money.  There 
is  not  a  single  passion  which  could  not  be 
held  in  check  by  fear  of  death.  Naturally, 
the  egoist's  most  cherished  possession  is  his 
life.  But  have  we  never  seen  selfish  men, 
carried  away  by  transitory  enthusiasm, 
sacrificing  their  existence  for  their  country, 
or  for  some  other  noble  cause?  If  this  tran- 
sitory state  has  been  possible,  what  has  hap- 
pened during  the  time  of  the  celebrated 
operari  sequitur  esse  ?  A  character  which 
can  transform  itself  so  radically,  be  it  only 
for  half  an  hour,  is  not  an  immutable  char- 
acter, and  there  is  hope  of  renewing  this 
change  more  and  more  frequently. 

Moreover,  where  has  Schopenhauer  ever 
met  absolutely  consistent  characters,  as,  for 
example,  one  who  was  an  egoist  from  first  to 
last  in  thought  and  sentiment?  Such  a 
simple  setting  forth  of  human  nature  has 
probably  never  been  seen ;  and  once  again, 
we  must  say  that  the  belief  that  the  char- 
acter is  a  unity,  or  a  homogeneous  block,  is 
based  on  the  most  superficial  observation. 

[37] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

Character  is  the  resultant  of  heterogeneous 
forces,  and  our  assertion,  based  on  the  ob- 
servations of  living  persons  and  not  on 
abstractions,  is  strong  enough  to  demolish 
the  naive  theories  of  Kant  and  Schopen- 
hauer. As  to  Spencer,  it  will  suffice  to  point 
out  to  his  followers  that  good  tendencies  are 
as  hereditary,  and  as  firmly  organized,  as 
bad  ones,  and  that,  by  skilfully  contriving, 
one  can  have  as  much  ancestral  power  in  his 
favor  as  against  him.  At  all  events,  it  is 
only  a  question  of  degree,  which  the  follow- 
ing pages  of  this  book,  we  hope,  will  decide. 
Let  us  now  leave  the  theory  of  immutable 
character,  as  it  is  no  longer  able  to  stand  by 
itself.  Alas,  we  French,  too,  have  our  dis- 
couraging theorists,  chief  among  whom  is 
Taine,  who,  with  a  narrowness  of  view,  in- 
conceivable in  such  a  great  mind,  was  un- 
able to  distinguish  fatalism  from  determin- 
ism. In  his  reaction  against  Cousinian 
spiritualism,  he  went  so  far  as  to  consider 
our  life  independent  of  our  will,  and  virtue 
as  a  manufactured  product,  like  sugar.  It 
was  a  naive  and  infantile  picture  which,  by 
its  cynicism,  deterred  men  for  a  long  time 

[38] 


DISCOURAGING  AND  FALSE  THEORIES 

from  taking  up  the  study  of  psychological 
determinism,  and  which  at  the  time  of  its 
appearance  and  for  a  long  time  after,  per- 
verted the  meaning  of  M.  Ribot's  book  on 
the  Diseases  of  the  Will.  It  is  only  too  true 
that,  in  such  delicate  matters,  a  host  of  ad- 
versaries is  less  to  be  dreaded  than  a  sar- 
castic and  maladroit  friend. 

It  now  remains  for  us  to  dispose  of  a  bold 
and  most  alluring  theory  which  states  the 
possibility  of  gaining  the  mastery  over  self, 
since,  inasmuch  as  it  has  presented  the  strug- 
gle for  freedom  in  too  easy  a  light,  has 
caused  as  much,  and  even  more,  discourage- 
ment than  have  the  fatalist's  theories.  We 
refer  to  the  theory  of  free  will.  Free  will, 
which  philosophers  have  tried  to  associate 
with  moral  liberty,  has  in  reality  nothing  to 
do  with  that,  for  to  lead  young  people  to  be- 
lieve that  any  such  long  and  arduous  under- 
taking as  the  task  of  achieving  one's  free- 
dom can  be  accomplished  with  perfect  ease, 
merely  by  proclaiming  that  they  are  free,  is 
to  doom  them  to  discouragement  from  the 
very  beginning.  As  soon  as  the  young  man's 
enthusiasm  has  been  aroused  by  the  study  of 

[39] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

the  lives  of  great  men  of  the  past,  it  is  a  good 
plan  to  call  his  attention  to  this  most  im- 
portant element  of  their  success,  hiding 
none  of  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome,  but 
at  the  same  time  pointing  out  to  him  the 
sureness  of  triumph  if  he  perseveres. 

One  can  no  more  become  master  of  him- 
self by  proclaiming  himself  to  be  free  than 
France  became  powerful  by  the  fiat  of  1870. 
She  has  had  to  put  forth  twenty  years  of 
hard  and  persevering  effort,  in  order  to  re- 
cover her  position.  In  the  same  way,  our 
personal  uplifting  must  be  a  work  of 
patience.  Why?  One  sees  people  spending 
thirty  years  in  the  practise  of  a  difficult  pro- 
fession, in  order  to  be  free  to  retire  to  the 
country.  Should  one  grudge  the  time  that 
must  be  devoted  to  such  a  lofty  and  noble 
work  as  the  mastery  of  one's  self? 

On  our  self-mastery  depends  our  true 
worth,  namely,  what  we  ourselves  shall  be- 
come and  the  role  which  we  shall  play  in  life. 
By  means  of  it  we  shall  be  able  to  inspire 
both  the  esteem  and  respect  of  every  one.  It 
will  throw  open  to  us  every  source  of  happi- 
ness (for  all  our  deepest  happiness  springs 

[40] 


DISCOURAGING  AND  FALSE  THEORIES 

from  well-regulated  activity),  which  is  an 
opportunity  that  hardly  any  one  who  has 
attained  maturity  will  fail  to  appreciate. 
Affected  contempt  for  it  evidently  hides 
secret  misery,  a  fact  which  we  have  all  ex- 
perienced. What  student  has  not  sadly 
realized  the  disproportion  between  his  desire 
to  do  good  work,  and  the  feebleness  of  his 
will  ?  ' '  You  are  free ! ' '  the  professors  say,  but 
we  listen  to  their  statement  in  false  despair. 
No  one  has  taught  us  that  the  will  may  be 
slowly  conquered;  no  one  has  thought  of 
studying  how  to  conquer  it.  No  one  has 
trained  us  for  this  struggle;  no  one  has 
helped  us,  and  hence,  as  a  perfectly  natural 
reaction,  we  fervently  accept  the  doctrines  of 
Taine  and  the  fatalists,  which  at  least  con- 
sole us  and  help  us  to  be  resigned  in  the  use- 
less struggle.  And  because  we  shut  our  eyes 
to  the  untruth  of  these  doctrines  which  con- 
nive at  our  laziness,  we  let  ourselves  drift 
tranquilly  on  to  the  rocks. 

The  real  cause  of  these  fatalistic  theories 
concerning  the  will  is  the  naive  and  dismal 
theory  of  the  philosophy  of  free  will !  Moral 
liberty,  like  political  liberty,  and  everything 

[411 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

else  that  is  of  any  value  in  this  world,  can 
only  be  acquired  by  great  effort  and  inces- 
sant struggle.  It  is  the  reward  of  the  strong, 
the  skilled  and  persevering  man.  No  one 
is  free  who  has  not  earned  the  right  to  be 
free.  Liberty  is  neither  a  right  nor  a  con- 
dition, it  is  a  reward.  It  is  the  highest  re- 
ward, and  the  one  most  productive  of  hap- 
piness. To  the  daily  occurrences  of  life  it  is 
what  sunlight  is  to  a  landscape.  He  who  has 
not  achieved  it  misses  all  the  deep  and  last- 
ing joys  of  life. 

Alas!  No  question  has  been  made  more 
unintelligible  than  this  vital  question  of 
liberty.  Bain  calls  it  the  "rusty  lock"  of 
metaphysics.  It  is  evident  that  by  liberty 
we  understand  self-mastery;  the  sense  of 
assurance  in  our  mind  that  noble  sentiments 
and  moral  ideas  have  ascendency  over  our 
animal  tendencies.  By  this,  we  do  not  mean 
that  we  can  become  infallible  in  our  self- 
control,  for  the  centuries  are  still  too  few 
that  separate  us  from  our  savage  cave-dwell- 
ing ancestors  to  allow  us  to  rid  ourselves 
absolutely  of  the  heritage  of  irascibility, 
egotism,  sensuality  and  laziness  which  they 

[42] 


DISCOURAGING  AND  FALSE  THEORIES 

have  bequeathed  to  us.  The  great  saints 
who  triumphed  in  the  ceaseless  struggle  be- 
tween their  human  and  their  animal  natures 
did  not  know  the  joy  of  serene  and  uncon- 
tested  victory. 

But  let  us  call  attention  again  to  the  fact 
that  the  work  which  we  are  outlining  is  not 
as  difficult  as  the  work  of  self-sanctification. 
For  it  is  one  thing  to  struggle  against  lazi- 
ness and  passion,  and  another  to  attempt  ab- 
solutely to  root  out  the  egotism  of  one's 
nature. 

But  even  when  reduced  to  these  terms,  the 
combat  is  long  and  difficult.  Neither  the 
ignorant  nor  the  presumptuous  can  conquer. 
There  are  certain  methods  to  follow  which 
must  first  be  learned,  and  one  must  make  up 
one 's  mind  to  labor  long.  To  enter  the  arena 
without  knowing  the  laws  of  psychology, 
or  without  following  the  advice  of  those  who 
know  them,  is  like  expecting  to  win  a  game 
of  chess  over  an  experienced  adversary 
without  knowing  the  moves  of  the  pieces. 
But  the  partizans  of  such  chimerical  free 
will  will  say  that  if  you  can  not  create^ 
or  if  you  can  not  by  the  act  of  will- 

[43] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

ing  give  to  any  motive  or  impulse  a  force 
which  it  did  not  naturally  possess,  then 
you  are  not  free.  Nevertheless,  we  are 
indeed  free  and  we  do  not  desire  to  be  other- 
wise free.  Instead  of  pretending  to  give 
force  to  a  motive  by  a  simple  volition  or  by 
a  mysterious  whimsical  act  contrary  to  all 
scientific  laws,  we  propose  to  give  it  force 
by  the  intelligent  application  of  the  laws 
of  association  of  ideas.  We  can  only  con- 
trol human  nature  when  we  obey  it.  The 
only  guarantee  of  our  liberty  is  found  in  the 
laws  of  psychology,  which,  at  the  same  time, 
are  the  only  means  by  which  we  can  attain 
freedom.  The  only  liberty  there  is  for  us 
lies  in  the  bosom  of  determinism. 

Here  we  are  at  the  crucial  point  of  the 
debate.  We  are  told  that,  if  we  do  not  ad- 
mit that  the  will  without  being  accompa- 
nied by  desire,  but  simply  by  its  own  free 
initiative,  can  quicken  a  feeble  impulse  to  the 
point  of  dominating  over  powerful  passions 
then  we  presuppose  the  desire.  If  a  student 
feels  no  desire  to  work,  he  will  never  work. 
Here  we  are  confronted  by  a  predestination 
more  cruel  than  that  of  Calvinism.  For  the 

[44] 


DISCOURAGING  AND  FALSE  THEORIES 

Calvinist  predestined  to  hell  does  not  know 
it  and  the  hope  of  heaven  never  leaves  him. 
But  our  student,  by  searching  the  depths 
of  his  conscience,  is  able  to  perceive  that  he 
has  no  desire,  and  that  he  is  lacking  in 
grace,  and  he  therefore  concludes  that  all 
effort  is  useless,  and  that  he  may  as  well 
close  the  door  upon  hope. 

Here  is  the  question  in  a  nutshell.  Either 
I  have,  or  else  I  have  not,  the  desire  for 
better  things.  If  I  do  not  have  it,  all  my 
effort  is  in  vain.  But  as  I  am  not  responsible 
for  my  desire,  and  as  grace,  like  the  wind, 
bloweth  where  it  listeth,  I  find  myself  driven 
to  fatalism  rather  than  to  predestination. 
Very  well ;  but  in  granting  this  we  grant  less 
than  would  appear.  Note  that  the  desire 
for  improvement,  however  feeble  it  may  be, 
is  sufficient,  because  by  employing  the  proper 
means  to  cultivate  it,  it  can  be  developed, 
strengthened,  and  transformed  into  a  strong 
and  lasting  resolution.  But  some  desire 
there  must  be,  even  tho  it  be  the  faintest 
you  can  imagine.  If  it  does  not  exist  you 
can  do  nothing. 

We  admit  this  fully;  and  we  believe  those 

[45] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

who  hold  that  liberty  can  be  achieved  by  a 
single  act  will  allow  that  one  can  not  base 
much  hope  upon  a  decision  to  improve  one's 
self  which  does  not  rest  on  some  desire  for 
improvement.  To  perform  a  difficult  piece 
of  work  unwillingly,  or  not  to  like  what  one 
is  trying  to  attain,  is  to  deprive  one's  self  of 
all  chances  of  success.  In  order  to  succeed, 
one  must  love  his  work.  But  again,  a 
student  either  possesses  or  lacks  this  love 
or  desire.  If  he  lacks  it,  then  he  must  be 
hopelessly  condemned.  We  grant  the  di- 
lemma. Yes,  desire  is  necessary;  where 
there  is  no  desire  to  become  free,  there  will 
be  no  liberty !  But  the  doleful  effects  of  such 
predestination  apply  only  to  that  limited 
number  of  people  whom  even  the  most  rabid 
partizans  of  free  will  themselves  would  con- 
sider as  having  an  unfortunate  predestination. 
In  fact,  such  a  group  corresponds  to 
those  insane  persons  who  suffer  from  moral 
insanity.  "We  hold,  tho  without  being  able 
to  prove  it,  because  we  have  never  encoun- 
tered any  negative  cases,  that,  if  we  were 
to  ask  any  man  whosoever  not  mentally 
afflicted,  if  he  would  prefer  the  glorious 

[46] 


DISCOURAGING  AND  FALSE  THEORIES 

career  of  a  Pasteur  to  that  of  a  debased 
drunkard,  he  would  answer  "Yes."  Here 
evidently  is  a  postulate;  it  is  our  postulate, 
and  one  which  no  one  can  contest.  But  who 
will  contest  it? 

Are  there  any  men  absolutely  insensible 
to  the  splendor  of  genius,  to  beauty,  and  to 
moral  grandeur?  If  such  a  brute  exists,  or 
has  existed,  I  confess  that  I  have  no  interest 
in  him.  But  if  my  postulate  is  true,  and  true 
it  is  for  the  totality  of  human  mankind,  that 
is  enough  for  me.  For,  if  a  person  prefers 
the  grandeur  of  a  Socrates,  a  Eegulus  or  a 
Vincent  de  Paul  to  the  ignoble  depravity 
of  the  most  repulsive  specimens  of  the 
human  species,  such  a  preference,  no  matter 
how  feeble  it  may  be,  is  quite  sufficient.  For 
to  prefer  implies  love  and  desire.  This  de- 
sire, no  matter  how  fleeting  it  may  be,  can  be 
held  and  protected.  It  will  grow  strong  if 
it  is  cultivated,  and  will,  through  the  skilfully 
managed  interplay  of  the  laws  of  psychol- 
ogy, be  transformed  into  a  virile  resolu- 
tion. It  is  thus  that  from  an  acorn,  which 
is  a  meal  for  a  mouse,  there  arises  a  power- 
ful oak  which  defies  the  hurricane. 

[47] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

We  are  therefore  not  at  all  troubled  by 
being  driven  to  such  predestination,  since, 
with  the  exception  of  a  group  of  incurable 
insane,  and  some  few  dozen  hopeless  brutes, 
we  are  all  predestined  to  good  behavior. 
Morality  therefore  does  not  need  to  link  its 
fate  to  such  a  hazardous,  and,  let  us  repeat, 
such  a  discouraging  theory,  as  that  of  free 
will.  Morality  needs  only  liberty,  which  is 
quite  a  different  thing,  and  this  liberty  is  pos- 
sible only  in  and  by  reason  of  determinism. 
All  that  is  necessary  to  establish  the  pos- 
sibility of  liberty  is  that  our  imagination 
shall  be  capable  of  conceiving  a  plan  of  life 
to  be  realized.  Our  knowledge  and  practise 
of  the  laws  of  psychology  will  enable  us, 
by  means  of  various  combinations  and  alli- 
ances, to  carry  out  the  main  lines  of  our 
chosen  plan,  and  to  take  advantage  of  time, 
which  is  the  most  powerful  factor  in  accom- 
plishing our  freedom,  and  use  it  toward 
that  end. 

Possibly  our  conception  of  liberty  may 
not  be  as  seductive  to  the  lazy  man  as  the 
theory  of  free  will,  but  it  has  the  advantage 
over  the  latter  of  being  adequate  for  our 

[48] 


DISCOURAGING  AND  FALSE  THEORIES 

psychological  and  moral  nature,  as  it  really 
is.  It  does  not  expose  us  to  ridicule  by  letting 
us  haughtily  affirm  that  we  possess  abso- 
lute liberty  while  our  statement  is  constantly 
contradicted  by  our  only  too  evident  sub- 
serviency to  the  enemies  within.  If  such 
a  contradiction  were  merely  amusing  to  the 
psychological  observer,  it  would  not  be  so 
bad;  but  it  does  not  stop  there,  it  goes  on 
producing  discouragement  in  those  who 
have  the  greatest  desire  to  improve. 
Furthermore,  this  theory  of  free  will  has 
prevented  many  a  discerning  mind — to  our 
irreparable  loss — from  studying  the  con- 
ditions of  the  will.1 

Now  that  our  path  has  been  cleared  of 
these  popular  theories  concerning  the  nature 
of  the  will,  we  can  get  right  at  the  heart  of 
our  subject,  and  take  up  the  study  of  the 
psychology  of  the  will. 

1  To  be  convinced  of  this  it  is  only  necessary  to  remem- 
ber into  what  utter  oblivion  that  very  profound  psycholog- 
ical work  concerning  the  will,  produced  by  the  school  of 
Cousin,  has  fallen.  We  refer  to  the  Tableau  de  I'activite 
volontaire  pour  servire  d  la  science  I 'education,  by  Debs. 
Amiens,  1844. 

We  believe  that  Debs  died  at  about  the  age  of  44.    There 

[49] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

are  many  pages  in  his  book  showing  profound  penetration, 
especially  when  the  date  of  the  work  is  considered.  I  call 
attention  to  an  exposition  beginning  on  page  30,  and  the 
following  pages,  of  the  theory  reproduced  by  Professor 
William  James,  namely,  that  the  will  only  unites  terms  in 
their  mental  order.  What  would  not  so  fine  a  mind  as 
Jouffroy's  have  done  along  this  line  of  study,  had  he  not 
been  misled  by  the  whimsical  discussion  of  free  will  then 
in  fashion.  This  theory  has  hindered  the  study  of  the  will 
for  half  a  century. 


[50] 


BOOK    II 

THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  WILL 


A  STUDY   OF  THE  ROLE  THAT  IDEAS  PLAY 
IN  THE  WILL 

IF  the  elements  of  our  psychologic  life  were 
simple,  nothing  would  be  easier  than  to  study 
the  dangers,  as  well  as  the  resources,  which 
they  offer  to  the  work  of  self-mastery;  but 
these  elements  are  so  interdependent,  and 
so  combined  with  one  another,  that  it  is  very 
difficult  to  analyze  them  in  detail. 

Nevertheless,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the 
elements  of  our  inner  life  fall  into  three 
groups:  our  ideas,  our  emotional  states,  and 
our  actions. 

The  word  idea  includes  many  different 
elements.  The  most  profound  distinction 
which  the  psychologist,  who  is  interested  in 
the  relation  of  intelligence  to  the  will,  can 
make  between  our  different  ideas  is  to  sepa- 
rate them  into  centripetal  ideas  and  centrif- 
ugal ideas.  A  great  many  ideas  come  from 
the  outside;  they  are  what  Montaigne  called 
" chaff  of  the  sieve/'  mere  transitory  visi- 

[53] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

tants  which  have  not  gone  through  any 
process  of  assimilation,  and  for  which  our 
memories  seem  only  a  repository. 

Ideas  wholly  at  variance  with  each  other 
lodge  side  by  side  in  our  minds.  All  of  us 
have  in  our  heads  a  host  of  thoughts  de- 
rived from  reading  and  conversation,  and 
even  from  our  dreams.  These,  strangers  to 
each  other,  have  taken  advantage  of  our 
mental  laziness  to  introduce  themselves  to 
us,  the  majority  under  the  authority  of  some 
writer  or  professor.  It  is  in  this  assembly, 
where  there  is  good  as  well  as  worthless 
material,  that  our  laziness  and  sensuousness 
seek  their  justification.  We  are  the  masters 
of  ideas  of  this  kind.  We  can  bring  them 
into  line  and  develop  them  after  our  own 
fashion.  And  if  we  have  complete  mastery 
over  them  they  have  hardly  any  over  us. 
The  majority  are  scarcely  more  than  words, 
and  the  struggle  of  words  against  our  lazi- 
ness and  sensuality  is  like  the  clashing  of 
an  earthen  pot  against  a  pot  of  iron.  M. 
Fouillee  has  fostered  a  false  point  of  view  by 
speaking  of  idea-forces.  He  has  never  noticed 
that  the  executive  force  of  an  idea  almost 

[54] 


THE  ROLE  THAT  IDEAS  PLAY 

always  comes  from  its  union  with  those  real 
sources  of  power  which  we  call  the  "affect- 
ive," or  emotional,  states.  Every  turn  of 
experience  convinces  us  of  the  feebleness  of 
ideas.  There  is  a  vast  difference  between 
purely  formal  approbation  and  the  active, 
efficient  faith  that  rouses  one  to  deeds.  The 
moment  that  the  intelligence  has  to  struggle 
alone,  without  any  outside  help,  against  the 
brutal  array  of  sensual  forces,  it  is  reduced 
to  helplessness.  As  long  as  one  is  in  good 
health,  such  isolation  of  the  intelligence  is 
impossible:  but  sickness  proves  to  us  very 
clearly  that  all  force  which  instigates  im- 
portant actions  emanates  from  sensibility. 
We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  intelligence  has 
no  force  in  itself,  but  rather  that  it  seems 
to  us  quite  powerless  to  eradicate,  or  repress, 
our  forceful  and  persistent  animal  tend- 
encies. 

M.  Eibot,1  has  shown,  by  means  of  stri- 
king examples,  that  when  sensibility  is  pro- 
foundly diminished,  when  there  is  no  joy 
following  sensation,  then  the  idea  remains 
inert  and  cold;  an  intelligent  man  may  be- 

i ' '  Maladies  de  la  volonte, ' '  p.  38,  seq. 
[55] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

come  incapable  of  even  lifting  his  hand  to 
sign  his  name.  Which  one  of  us,  on  waking 
after  a  restless  night  with  little  sleep,  has  not 
found  himself  in  just  such  a  condition. 
Plunged  in  a  state  of  profound  lethargy,  our 
intelligence  is  as  keen  as  ever,  and  we  see 
exactly,  what  we  ought  to  do,  but  alas !  we 
realize  that  the  idea  has  little  strength  in 
itself.  But  let  us,  at  such  a  moment,  hear 
the  servant  talking  outside  with  a  visitor 
whom  he  is  about  to  announce,  and  whom  we 
have  wholly  forgotten,  and  the  confusion  of 
being  found  at  fault,  which  is  a  sentiment, 
will  make  us  jump  out  of  bed  in  the  greatest 
haste.  In  the  case  which  M.  Eibot  quotes, 
one  gets  a  vivid  illustration  of  the  contrast 
between  the  effect  of  the  ideas  and  that  of 
the  feelings.  One  of  the  patients  of  whom 
he  speaks,  who  was  incapable  of  making  the 
slightest  voluntary  movement,  was  the  first 
to  jump  out  of  the  carriage  when  it  ran  over 
a  woman  in  the  road. 

Unfortunately,  pathological  states  are 
looked  upon  as  something  apart,  while  they 
are  in  fact  only  an  exaggeration  of  the 
reality.  Just  as  a  miser  is  always  ready  to 

[56] 


THE  ROLE  THAT  IDEAS  PLAY 

laugh  at  the  follies  of  Harpagan,  without 
ever  seeing  anything  in  himself  to  laugh  at, 
so  we  refuse  to  see  ourselves  in  the  sharply 
defined  pictures  presented  to  us  by  mental 
diseases. 

But  all  our  experience  convinces  us  more 
and  more  of  the  powerlessness  of  the  idea. 
We  need  hardly  refer  to  the  case  of  alco- 
holics who  know  full  well  the  consequences 
that  will  follow  their  drunkenness,  but  who 
do  not  feel  them  until  the  first  attack  of 
delirium  comes,  and  then  it  is  too  late.  What 
is  this  want  of  foresight,  if  not  the  vision 
of  future  threats  without  the  feeling  of  these 
threats?  The  calamity  comes.  Ah,  if  I  had 
only  known,  they  say.  They  did  know,  but 
not  with  that  feeling  that  moving  knowledge, 
which,  as  far  as  the  will  is  concerned,  is  the 
only  thing  that  counts. 

Underneath  this  superficial  layer  of  ideas 
which  do  not  penetrate  to  any  depth,  are 
found  ideas  which  can  be  helped  by  passing 
feelings.  For  example,  one  may  have  spent 
several  days  in  a  state  of  semi-laziness,  in 
reading  perhaps,  but  not  be  able  to  get  up 
energy  enough  to  go  on  with  a  book  which 

[57] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

is  lying  there  waiting  to  be  written,  and  this 
in  spite  of  very  excellent  reasons  that  we 
have  for  doing  so.  Suddenly,  the  mail  brings 
us  news  of  the  success  of  some  friend,  and 
we  are  piqued  into  emulation,  and  what  the 
most  worthy  and  sensible  line  of  reasoning 
could  not  effect,  is  brought  about  instantly 
by  a  wave  of  mediocre  emotion. 

I  shall  always  remember  an  event  that 
showed  me,  with  unmistakable  clearness,  the 
difference  between  an  idea  and  an  emotion.  It 
was  in  the  gray  of  early  dawn  when  I  was 
crossing  a  snowbank  which  sloped  so  rapidly 
that  its  lower  part  disappeared  in  the  dark- 
ness. I  began  to  slip,  but  did  not  lose  my  head 
for  a  moment,  tho  I  was  perfectly  conscious  of 
the  fact  then  that  I  was  in  a  critical  situation, 
and  in  extreme  danger.  I  succeeded,  even 
while  I  was  thinking  that  I  was  going  to  be 
killed,  in  slowing  up  a  little,  and  finally  in 
checking  my  slide  altogether  about  a  hundred 
yards  further  down.  With  perfect  calmness 
I  walked  slowly  across  the  snowbank  by  the 
help  of  my  alpenstock,  but  the  moment  I 
found  sure  footing  on  the  rocks  and  was 
definitely  saved,  I  was  seized  (possibly  by 

[58] 


THE  HOLE  THAT  IDEAS  PLAY 

reason  of  the  exhaustion  caused  by  my  ex- 
cessive efforts),  with  a  violent  fit  of 
trembling.  My  heart  beat  rapidly  and  I  was 
bathed  in  a  cold  perspiration,  and  then  only 
did  I  experience  a  sense  of  fear  and  extreme 
terror.  In  an  instant  the  idea  of  danger  had 
become  a  feeling  of  danger. 

Lying  much  deeper  than  these  ideas  of  ex- 
ternal origin,  which  are  adopted  provisorily 
by  transitory  emotional  states,  are  other  ideas 
which,  altho  they  also  come  from  without, 
are  in  harmony  with  fundamental  feelings, 
and  which  are  so  closely  bound  up  with  them 
that  one  can  not  say  whether  the  idea  has 
absorbed  the  emotion,  or  the  emotion  the 
idea.  At  this  point,  they  become  confused 
with  ideas  of  internal  origin  coming  from 
the  depths  of  our  being  which  are,  as  it 
were,  a  translation  into  set  terms  of  our  very 
character  and  our  profoundest  tendencies. 
Our  sentient  personality  gives  them  a  warm 
coloring:  they  are,  to  a  certain  extent 
emotions.  Like  lava,  which  tho  cooled  on 
the  surface,  will  remain  molten  for  years  at 
a  certain  depth,  these  ideas  retain,  even 
after  they  have  been  metamorphosed  into 

[59] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

intelligence,  the  heart  of  their  original  emo- 
tion. They  not  only  inspire,  but  sustain, 
prolonged  activity  in  any  given  direction. 
Nevertheless,  it  must  be  distinctly  re- 
membered that  these  ideas  are  not  ideas  at 
all;  they  are  distinct,  definite  and  quick  re- 
sponding substitutes  of  the  feelings;  that  is 
to  say,  of  powerful  psychological  conditions 
which  move  slowly,  and  are  cumbersome  and 
difficult  to  handle.  They  are  very  different 
from  the  superficial  ideas  which  make  up 
" the  external  man,"  and  which  are  often 
merely  words,  or  signs  barren  of  any  signifi- 
cance. Their  energy  comes  to  them,  as  it 
were,  by  their  roots.  It  is  a  borrowed  energy 
which  they  draw  up  from  the  living  source 
of  the  sentiments  and  passions — in  short,  a 
word  from  the  emotional  states.  When  an 
idea  such  as  that  of  which  we  have  spoken 
is  born  into  a  soul  that  receives  it  warmly,  by 
some  duplex  and  mysterious  phenomenon  of 
endosmosis  which  we  shall  study,  it  draws  to 
itself  all  the  sentiments  which  it  needs  to  im- 
pregnate it,  and  in  some  way  nourish  itself 
and  strengthens  itself  upon  them,  and  more- 
over the  power  of  the  idea  passes  into  the 

[60] 


THE  ROLE  THAT  IDEAS  PLAY 

sentiments  and  gives  them,  not  only  strength, 
but  direction.  The  idea  is  to  the  feelings 
what  magnetization  is  to  the  innumerable  cur- 
rents in  a  bar  of  soft  iron;  it  leads  them  all 
in  the  same  direction,  and  destroys  conflict- 
ing currents,  so  that,  what  was  only  an  inco- 
herent mass,  becomes  an  organized  current 
with  a  hundredfold  strength.  Thus  it  some- 
times happens  in  politics,  that  a  happy  ex- 
pression uttered  by  some  popular  leader  will 
be  enough  to  swing  the  various  hitherto  dis- 
organized anarchical  tendencies  of  democracy 
sharply  around  into  a  definite  and  organized 
form. 

But  reduced  to  themselves  ideas  have  no 
power  against  the  brute  strength  of  natural 
inclinations  or  tendencies.  Who  has  not  at 
some  time  had  the  experience  of  being  seized 
at  night  with  an  absurd  unreasoning  terror, 
and  of  lying  in  bed,  with  his  heart  beating 
violently,  his  temples  bursting  with  the  rush 
of  blood  to  his  head,  and  of  being  incapable 
of  driving  away  this  ridiculous  emotion,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  his  reason  and  intelli- 
gence were  both  perfectly  clear  and  active. 
If  any  have  not  had  such  an  experience  I 

[61] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

advise  them  to  sit  up  after  midnight  when 
the  wind  is  howling  out  in  the  country  in 
the  depth  of  winter,  and  read  the  "Walled- 
up  Door,"  one  of  Hoffmann's  fantastic  tales. 
They  will  then  see  for  themselves  how  power- 
less their  intelligence  and  reason  will  be  to 
cope  with  the  emotion  of  fear. 

But,  without  referring  to  examples  of  such 
strong  and  almost  instinctive  emotion,  one 
can  see  the  difference  in  the  effects  produced 
by  ideas  and  by  emotional  states,  by  studying 
acquired  feelings.  Compare  the  purely  in- 
tellectual parrot-like  belief  of  the  citizens  of 
any  small  French  town  with  the  faith  of  a 
Dominican  monk.  The  latter,  because  he 
feels  a  religious  truth,  is  able  to  sacrifice 
himself  utterly,  deprive  himself  of  everything 
that  the  world  holds  dear,  accept  poverty 
and  humiliation  and  lead  a  severe,  hard  life. 
The  citizen  whose  belief  is  merely  intel- 
lectual goes  to  mass,  but  feels  no  sense  of 
repugnance  at  his  egregious  selfishness.  He 
is  rich,  but  he  works  a  poor  servant  pitilessly 
hard,  and  gives  her  scarcely  enough  to  eat 
while  demanding  the  utmost  of  her  service. 

Compare    the    lightly    uttered    socialistic 

[62] 


THE  ROLE  THAT  IDEAS  PLAY 

opinions  exprest  by  a  demagog,  who  de- 
nies himself  no  pleasure  and  spares  no  ex- 
pense to  gratify  his  vanity,  with  the 
socialism  felt  by  a  Tolstoi,  who,  tho  possest 
of  every  gift,  noble  birth,  fortune  and  genius, 
yet  lives  the  life  of  a  Russian  peasant. 

In  the  same  way,  the  idea  of  the  inevit- 
ableness  of  death  is  with  most  people  merely 
an  abstract  conception.  This  idea  which,  after 
all,  is  so  full  of  consolation  and  rest,  and  so 
calculated  to  weaken  our  ambitions  and  check 
our  proud  and  selfish  impulses,  and  heal  the 
source  of  all  our  troubles,  has  nevertheless 
no  influence  upon  our  conduct.  How  could 
it  be  otherwise,  when,  even  by  those  who  are 
condemned  to  death,  this  idea  is  seldom  felt 
till  the  last  moment.  Dickens  writes  of  the 
sentence  of  Fagin : 

"Not  that,  all  this  time,  his  mind  was,  for 
an  instant  free  from  one  oppressive  over- 
whelming sense  of  the  grave  that  opened  at 
his  feet;  it  was  ever  present  to  him,  but  in 
a  vague  and  general  way,  and  he  could  not 
fix  his  thoughts  upon  it.  Thus,  even  while 
he  trembled,  and  turned  burning  hot  at  the 
idea  of  speedy  death,  he  fell  to  counting  the 

[63] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

iron  spikes  before  him,  and  wondering  how 
the  head  of  one  had  been  broken  off,  and 
whether  they  would  mend  it  or  leave  it  as 
it  was.  Then,  he  thought  of  all  the  horrors 
of  the  gallows  and  the  scaffold — and  stopt  to 
watch  a  man  sprinkling  the  floor  to  cool  it — 
and  then  went  on  to  think  again. ' ' 1 

It  is  unnecessary  to  go  on  multiplying  ex- 
amples. Each  one  searching  in  his  own  past 
experience  can  collect  a  large  number  of 
characteristic  facts  that  will  coincide  with  our 
conclusions.  Ideas  by  themselves  do  not 
constitute  a  force.  They  would  be  a  force, 
provided  they  were  the  only  thing  in  con- 
sciousness ;  but,  as  they  often  find  themselves 
in  conflict  with  the  emotional  states,  they  are 
obliged  to  borrow  from  feelings  the  force 
which  they  lack  when  they  come  to  struggle 
against  them. 

The  powerlessness  of  ideas  is  all  the  more 
deplorable  because  we  have  them  com- 
pletely under  our  control.  The  easily  regu- 
lated determinism  of  the  association  of  con- 
scious states  gives  us  almost  absolute  free- 
dom in  the  matter  of  the  intellect. 

i  Charles  Dickens,  "Oliver  Twist,"  ch.  52. 
[64] 


THE  ROLE  THAT  IDEAS  PLAY 

By  the  very  laws  of  association  them- 
selves, we  are  able  to  break  the  chain  of 
associated  states  and  to  introduce  new  ele- 
ments into  them  and  then  connect  the  chain 
again.  While  I  am  casting  around  for  an 
example  to  illustrate  this  theoretical  state- 
ment, chance  which  faithfully  looks  after  all 
those  who  pursue  an  idea,  has  offered  me 
one.  A  factory  whistle  blows.  This  sound, 
against  my  will,  has  interrupted  the  train 
of  ideas  which  I  was  following  and  has 
suddenly  introduced  to  my  conscious- 
ness a  picture  of  the  sea  with  a  back- 
ground of  strong  mountain  peaks,  and  then 
comes  the  beautiful  panorama  which  is  seen 
from  the  quays  of  Bastia.  This  is  because 
the  whistle  had  exactly  the  same  sound  as 
that  of  the  steamboat  which  for  three  years 
I  so  often  heard  there.  Ah  well  T  you  want 
freedom.  Here  it  is.  It  is  the  law  of  the 
strongest.  The  direct  presentation  of  a 
state  is,  as  a  rule,  stronger  than  the  repre- 
sentation of  it  in  memory — and  if  the  whistle 
can  break  a  train  of  thoughts  which  we  wish 
to  follow,  we  can  deliberately  make  use  of 
such  an  effect.  We  can,  if  we  wish  to  free 

[65] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

ourselves  from  some  association  of  ideas, 
introduce  a  strong  presentation  of  an  idea 
or  thing  that  will  violently  break  the  chain. 
There  is  one  presentative  state  that  is  par- 
ticularly easy  and  convenient,  viz.,  move- 
ment, and  among  movements  those  which  con- 
stitute language.  One  can  pronounce  words 
out  loud,  or  one  can  read  them.  One  can  even 
scourge  one's  self,  as  the  saints  do  in  mo- 
ments of  temptation,  and  thus  violently  break 
the  train  of  dangerous  associations.  Any 
idea  which  we  want  to  use  as  a  starting-point 
for  a  new  direction  of  thoughts,  in  order  to 
gain  a  victory  over  another  line  of  thoughts, 
we  can  drag  in,  as  it  were,  by  force. 

We  are,  moreover,  wonderfully  aided  in 
our  endeavors  by  the  great  law  of  memory. 
All  recollection,  in  order  to  be  deeply 
graven,  must  be  repeated  frequently,  and 
for  a  long  time.  There  is  first  the  need  of 
keen  and  sympathetic  attention,  if  I  may  so 
describe  it.  The  cerebral  substrata  of  the 
chain  of  ideas  which  we  have  expelled  from 
our  consciousness  and  which  we  keep  in 
exile,  fade  and  disappear,  and  with  their 
own  atrophy  bring  about  the  effacement  of 

[66] 


THE  ROLE  THAT  IDEAS  PLAY 

corresponding  ideas.  We  are  thus  masters 
of  our  thoughts;  we  can  pull  up  the  weeds 
and  can  even  destroy  that  portion  of  the 
ground  that  bore  them. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  we  wish  to  keep 
the  associations  that  are  presented  and  to 
let  them  develop,  we  first  take  great  pains 
to  eliminate  all  the  presentative  conditions 
which  are  foreign  to  our  object  and  which 
lie  ready  to  obtrude  themselves  upon  our 
consciousness. 

We  find  a  quite  calm  place,  and  we  even  close 
our  eyes  if  the  web  of  our  thoughts  is  woven 
of  fragile  stuff.  Furthermore,  we  make  use 
of  the  right  presentative  states  that  will  help 
us;  we  speak  out  loud,  or  we  write  our 
thoughts;  for  writing  more  than  anything 
else  is  a  wonderful  aid  to  prolonged  medi- 
tation. It  sustains  thought  and  calls  in  the 
movements  of  the  hand  and  the  eyes  to  aid 
and  abet  the  ideas.  In  myself  I  find  a 
natural  propensity  which  has  been  strongly 
cultivated  by  my  profession.  I  can  not  read 
without  articulating,  so  that  for  me  thought 
is  strengthened  by  three  lines  of  presenta- 
tive sensations,  I  might  even  say  by  four,  as 

[67] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

it  is  difficult  to  articulate  without  hearing  the 
word. x 

In  summing  up,  we  see  that  it  is  because 
we  have  full  control  of  our  muscles, 
especially  those  of  the  organs  of  sense  or 
those  which  we  bring  into  play  in  language, 
that  we  are  able  to  free  ourselves  from  the 
bondage  of  the  association  of  ideas.  There 
may  be  differences  in  each  one  of  us  accord- 
ing to  our  nature.  In  practical  psychology, 
it  is  not  at  all  permissible  to  generalize  con- 
cerning any  special  case,  for  new  types  are 
discovered  every  day,  which  hitherto  were 
not  distinguished  from  the  others.8  But  for 
myself,  the  only  reminder  that  I  have  at  my 

1  It  is  well  known  that  the  memory  of  a  word  is  very  com- 
plex, and  that  it  is  composed  of  four  elements:    (1)  a  mo- 
tive image    (the  pronouncing  of  the  word),    (2)    a  visual 
image  (the  word  in  print  or  in  manuscript),   (3)   an  audi- 
tory image  (the  sound  of  the  word  as  it  is  spoken),  (4)  a 
graphic  motor  image  (the  writing  of  the  word).   As  thought 
is  impossible  without  language,  it  is  evident  in  all  thought 
there  must  be  woven  one  or  more  strands  formed  by  these 
images  of  which  we  have  just  spoken.     When  we  write  we 
should    weave    together    all    four    strands    to    sustain    our 
thought. 

2  Cf.  Eibot,  "L Evolution  des  ide"es  Generates."  F.  Alcan, 
1891. 

[68] 


THE  ROLE  THAT  IDEAS  PLAY 

disposal  and  the  one  I  always  call  in  first, 
when  I  wish  to  break  in  on  a  line  of  thought 
and  change  it  to  another,  is  to  imagine  some 
movement.  I  have  control  over  my  thoughts 
only  because  I  am  master  of  my  muscles. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  the  self-edu- 
cation of  the  will,  the  conclusion  of  this 
chapter  is  somewhat  discouraging.  We  can 
master  our  ideas,  but  alas!  the  strength  of 
our  ideas,  in  the  struggle  against  laziness 
and  sensuality,  is  hardly  appreciable.  Let 
us  see  whether  we  shall  attain  a  happier  re- 
sult in  studying  the  resources  which  the 
emotional  states  offer  us  in  the  work  of 
mastering  self. 


[69j 


n 

THE  ROLE   OF  THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES 
IN  THE  WILL 

THE  possibilities  of  power  that  the  emo- 
tional states  have  over  our  wills  can  not  be 
exaggerated.  They  can  do  anything ;  they  can 
even  make  us  face  suffering  and  death  with- 
out hesitation.  To  state  their  power,  is  simply 
to  state  an  empirical  law  of  the  universe. 
But  can  this  empirical  law  be  transformed 
into  a  scientific  law;  that  is  to  say,  can  a 
higher  law  be  derived  from  it,  and  be  con- 
sidered as  a  conclusion  deduced  from  an 
evident  truth! 

If  we  analyze  sentiment,  separating  from 
one  another  the  mingled  elements  of  which 
it  is  composed,  we  find  that  we  can  compare 
it  to  an  adagio  of  Beethoven  in  which  there 
is  a  fundamental  motif  running  through  all 
the  variations,  now  almost  disappearing  and 
now  standing  out  clearly.  Such  a  phrase  re- 
curring again  and  again  in  a  thousand 
forms  is,  as  it  were,  the  soil  in  its  variety 

[70] 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

and  unity,  which  brings  life  to  the  musical 
creation.  This  motif  sustaining  the  whole 
adagio  with  its  wonderful  richness,  illus- 
trates the  way  in  which  an  elementary  theme 
can  underlie  an  emotion  or  sentiment.  It  is 
this  theme  which  gives  to  the  sentiment  its 
unity.  Upon  it  there  may  be  developed  varia- 
tions of  richest  sensations,  of  pleasure,  grief, 
and  memory.  But  through  all  of  them  runs 
the  theme  which  gives  the  particular  tone 
to  these  secondary  elements.  As  human  be- 
ings, according  to  Descartes,  do  not  exist 
except  by  a  continuous  creation  of  God,  so 
even  our  pleasures,  our  griefs,  our  sen- 
sations, and  our  memories  have  no  reality, 
except  by  a  sort  of  continued  creation, 
through  the  living  energy  of  the  theme  by 
which  they  are  glorified.  Without  it,  one 
would  have  nothing  but  a  collection  of  cold, 
dry,  purely  abstract  psychological  con- 
ditions without  color  and  without  force. 

This  inner  depth  of  force  in  the  emotions 
explains  why  they  have  such  robust  power. 
In  fact,  what  are  these  underlying  tenden- 
cies, if  not  our  natural  activity  and  ardent 
wishes  which  through  the  powerful  dis- 

[71] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

cipline  of  pain,  have  been  obliged  to  restrict 
their  development  in  many  directions,  and  to 
submit  themselves  to  the  inevitable  choice, 
either  of  perishing  or  of  following  along 
certain  channels,  which  means  along  the  line 
of  certain  specially  organized  tendencies  1 

Activity  without  the  discipline  of  pain 
would  be  scattered  in  all  directions  and 
weakened:  experience  has  taught  it  to  move 
along  the  line  of  certain  tendencies,  and 
these  tendencies,  one  sees,  are,  after  all,  our 
sensual  primitive  energy,  which  in  molten 
streams  breaks  through  the  superficial  crust 
of  acquired  ideas  and  of  secondary  senti- 
ments of  the  outside  world.  It  is  our  living 
force  which  flows  into  the  proper  muscles, 
and  is  transmuted  into  habitual  acts.  This 
in  itself  explains  the  motor  power  of  the 
inclinations.  They  consist  of  a  group  of 
movements,  or  rather  of  a  number  of  ele- 
mentary movements.  For  example,  the 
muscular  material  brought  into  play  by 
anger,  or  the  emotion  of  love,  is,  in  the  main, 
always  the  same  in  every  instance.  It  is, 
moreover,  practically  the  same  for  the  en- 
tire human  race.  Whatever  it  is,  it  has  ex- 

[72] 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

isted  in  innumerable  generations,  which 
have  transmitted  its  existence  to  us.  On 
this  rather  ancient  fabric,  each  one  em- 
broiders his  own  personal  pattern;  but  the 
general  effect  is  so  coherent,  that  even  babes 
in  their  cradles  know  the  meaning  of  it. 
This  connection  between  a  certain  tendency 
and  a  certain  group  of  muscles  has  been 
transmitted  by  heredity.  It  is  a  bond  of 
great  antiquity.  One  can  readily  see  how 
these  strands,  with  which  I  might  de- 
liberately connect  a  certain  idea  with  a  cer- 
tain muscular  movement,  would  have  very 
little  strength  compared  with  those  other 
bonds  which  had  become  automatic.  The 
only  chance  that  such  would  have  of  not 
being  broken  in  this  unequal  struggle 
would  be,  as  one  can  foresee,  by  seeking 
alliance  and  making  common  cause  with 
hereditary  tendencies :  in  this  way,  one  could 
risk  a  struggle,  for  the  fragile  web  connect- 
ing the  idea  with  the  movement  would  not 
have  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  strain.  The 
force  that  lies  in  sentiment  or  feeling  is 
shown  by  the  richness  of  its  results. 
A  strong  feeling  may  disturb  psychological 

[73], 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

conditions  which  are  apparently  wholly  inde- 
pendent of  it,  as  for  instance  the  perception 
of  real  objects.  It  is  true  that  all  percep- 
tion, even  elementary  perception,  is  an  inter- 
pretation of  certain  signs.  I  do  not  see  an 
orange ;  I  only  judge  by  certain  signs  that  it 
must  be  an  orange.  But  with  habit,  this 
interpretation  becomes  instantaneous  and 
automatic  and  consequently  is  not  easily  dis- 
turbed. It  is  quite  possible  for  a  strong  emo- 
tion to  drive  away  the  true  interpretation 
and  to  suggest  a  hallucinatory  one  which 
takes  the  place  of  the  other  in  our  conscious- 
ness. Without  stopping  to  speak  of  fear  in 
the  night,  which  puts  the  most  absurd  inter- 
pretation upon  perfectly  natural  noises,  we 
may  remind  ourselves  how  hatred  can  blind 
us  to  the  most  evident  facts.  If  any  one  is 
tempted  to  call  to  account  the  curiously  false 
ideas  that  mothers  have  concerning  the 
beauty  of  their  children,  they  should  recall 
Moliere's  clever  little  sally  in  which  he 
laughs  at  the  illusions  created  by  love : 

The  sallow  girl  is  like  a  pearl,  the  fairest  he  has  met, 
The  swarthy  one  from  whom  men  run,  a  ravishing  brunette, 

But  our  perception  is  not  the  only  thing 

tm 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

which  is  led  astray  by  our  feelings.  Strong 
feelings  have  no  consideration  for  weak  feel- 
ings. For  example,  and  we  shall  soon  have 
reason  to  emphasize  this  fact,  vanity,  which 
is  a  very  powerful  sentiment  in  most  people, 
can  drive  all  well-established  sentiments 
completely  out  of  mind.  Our  sentiments  of 
what  is  proper  and  fashionable  are  very 
largely  suggested  by  our  amour  propre. 
These  strangers  strut  into  our  consciousness 
and  cover  up  our  true  feelings,  just  as  a 
specter  appearing  against  the  wall  seems  to 
hide  the  pattern  of  the  tapestry  from  the 
person  who  has  the  hallucination  as  effec- 
tually as  a  person  who  was  really  present 
would  do.  As  a  result  of  such  autosugges- 
tion, the  student  sacrifices  the  true  joys  of 
his  youth  and  environments  to  imaginary 
pleasures,  which,  when  stript  of  the  glamour 
of  the  sentiments  suggested  by  his  vanity,  or 
by  the  pace  which  his  fellows  set,  he  finds 
worthless.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  worldly 
people,  whose  tastes  and  incapacity  have 
made  them  superficial,  and  who  never  go 
down  deep  enough  in  their  own  hearts  to  find 
out  what  their  real  feelings  are,  so  often  turn 

[75] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

out  in  middle  life  to  be  stupid  and  vapid,  tho 
apparently  busy  with  many  interests.  They 
get  into  the  habit  of  imagining  that  they  are 
really  feeling  the  conventional  sentiments 
which  it  is  the  proper  thing  in  their  world  to 
appear  to  feel,  and  this  habit  finally  kills  in 
them  the  possibility  of  experiencing  real 
emotions.  This  subjection  to  "what  people 
would  say"  turns  out  very  agreeable  and 
polished  individuals  without  the  slightest 
originality,  pretty  mechanical  puppets  who 
are  worked  by  strings  in  other  people's 
hands.  Even  in  the  deepest  experiences  of 
life,  they  only  feel  conventional  emotions. 

It  is  very  evident  that  if  we  can  juggle  with 
our  perceptions  and  our  sentiments  which 
are  fairly  stable  and  permanent,  the  emo- 
tional states  would  have  no  difficulty  in  dis- 
turbing those  delicate  psychological  condi- 
tions known  as  memories.  And  as  all  judg- 
ment and  all  belief  depend  on  gaining  more 
or  less  complete  information,  followed  by  a 
precise  valuation  of  the  elements  of  the  in- 
formation, it  is  evident  that  the  feelings  could 
have  tremendous  consequences  in  this  di- 
rection. ' '  The  chief  use  to  which  we  put  our 

[76] 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

love  of  truth,  is  to  persuade  ourselves  that 
what  we  love  is  true."  *  We  nearly  all  of  us 
imagine  that  we  take  sides,  that  we  choose 
between  several  paths  that  are  open  to  us. 
Alas !  Our  decision  has  nearly  always  taken 
place  in  us,  and  is  not  taken  by  us.  There  is 
no  participation  of  our  conscious  will.  Our 
tendencies,  sure  of  their  final  victory,  con- 
sent after  a  fashion  to  let  our  intelligence 
look  the  matter  over;  they  are  quite  willing 
to  grant  her  the  empty  satisfaction  of  be- 
lieving herself  queen,  tho  in  reality  she  is 
only  a  constitutional  queen,  who  appears  be- 
fore the  public  and  makes  speeches,  but  who 
does  not  govern. 

In  fact,  the  intelligence  which  so  docilely 
submits  to  the  violence  of  the  emotional 
states,  does  not  get  much  satisfaction  from 
the  will.  The  will  is  not  fond  of  carrying  out 
the  cold  orders  it  receives  from  the  intelli- 
gence. As  it  is  the  organ  of  all  power  and 
feeling,  it  wants  emotional  orders  tinged  with 
passion.  Pathology  has  shown  us  the  case  of 
a  man  who  was  absolutely  incapable  of  ma- 
king a  decision,  eagerly  leaping  out  of  a  car- 

1  Nieol,  ' '  De  la  connaissance  de  soi, ' '  Vol.  I,  Chap.  6. 
[77] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

riage  before  any  one  else  to  help  a  woman 
who  had  been  run  over. 1  This  is  what  a 
special  volition  can  do. 

With  greater  reason,  a  strong  and  power- 
ful will  should  be  sustained  by  sentiments 
which  are  in  themselves  powerful,  and  if  not 
constantly,  at  least  should  be  frequently  ex- 
cited. "Strong  feeling, "  says  Mill,  "is  the 
instrument  and  element  of  strong  self-con- 
trol; but  it  requires  to  be  cultivated  in  that 
direction.  When  it  is,  it  forms  not  the  nerves 
of  impulse  only,  but  those  also  of  self-con- 
quest. History  and  experience  prove  that 
the  most  passionate  characters  are  the  most 
fantastically  rigid  in  their  feelings  of  duty, 
when  their  passion  has  been  trained  to  act  in 
that  direction. ' ' 2  Let  any  one  observe  him- 
self carefully  and  he  will  see  that  apart  from 
the  acts  which  have  become  automatic  by 
habit,  all  volition  is  preceded  by  a  wave  of 
emotion,  an  effective  perception  of  the  act 
to  be  accomplished.  We  have  just  seen  that 
the  idea  of  the  work  which  we  had  on  hand 

lEibot,  "Maladie  de  la  volonte,"  loc.  cit.,  p.  48  and 
52  note.  F.  Alcan. 

2  Mill,  "The  Subjection  of  Women";  Kibot,  "Maladies 
de  la  volonte,"  117,  118,  169. 

[78] 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

was  not  enough  to  make  us  spring  out  of 
bed,  while  the  feeling  of  shame  at  being 
caught  in  bed,  after  announcing  that  we  made 
a  practise  of  getting  up  at  dawn,  was  suf- 
ficiently moving  to  make  us  hurry  into  our 
clothing.  Also  a  feeling  that  some  one  has 
done  us  an  injustice  will  drive  us  to  protest 
that  we  were  not  to  blame,  etc. 

Moreover,  the  rather  irrational  kind  of  edu- 
cation that  is  given  to  the  children  of  the 
present  day  is  founded  in  part  on  a  vague 
perception  of  the  truth.  The  system  of  re- 
wards and  punishments  rests  on  the  confused 
belief  that  the  emotions  alone  are  able  to  stir 
the  will  into  action.  The  children  in  whom 
sensibility  is  at  a  very  low  level  are  exceed- 
ingly difficult  to  educate  in  the  matter  of  the 
will,  and  therefore  in  all  directions.  "It  must 
be  acknowledged  that  of  all  the  trials  of  edu- 
cation none  is  to  be  compared  with  that  of 
trying  to  bring  up  children  who  lack  sensi- 
bility, their  thoughts  are  mere  distractions. 
They  hear  everything  and  they  feel  noth- 
ing/'1 

If  we   look   upon   social  bodies  and  their 

iFenelon,  "Education  des  filles,"  Chap.  4. 
[79] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

wills  as  the  magnification  of  what  goes  on 
among  individuals,  we  shall  see  very  clearly 
that  ideas  lead  people  only  indirectly,  and 
with  the  help  of  sentiments.  "The  advent  of 
an  idea,"  says  Micheles,  "is  not  so  much 
the  first  appearance  of  it  as  a  formula,  as 
it  is  the  moment  when  it  really  begins  to  de- 
velop, when,  impregnated  by  the  force  of 
the  heart  and  nurtured  in  the  powerful 
warmth  of  love,  it  bears  fruit  for  the 
world."1  Spencer  maintains  with  good 
reason  that  the  world  is  led  by  the  emo- 
tions. Stuart  Mill  objects  to  this.2  "Be- 
cause," he  says,  "it  was  not  human  emo- 
tions and  passions  which  discovered  the 
movement  of  the  earth."  Assuredly  not. 
But  this  discovery  has  depended  for  its  re- 
sults on  very  powerful  sentiments,  without 
which  it  would  have  had  no  influence  on 
human  conduct.  Such  an  idea  springs  up 
in  the  mind  of  a  Pascal  or  a  Spinoza.  In 
the  case  of  the  latter,  especially  his  feeling 
of  the  utter  insignificance  of  our  globe  in  the 
universe,  with  the  resulting  feeling  of  our 

1  "Les  Femmes  de  la  Revolution,"  1854,  p.  321. 

2  "Aug.  Comte  et  le  Positi^isme, ' '  p.   100  seq.     Trans. 
Clemenceau  F.  Alcan. 

[80]    N 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

own  non-entity,  so  profoundly  affected  him, 
that  no  one  can  read  his  books  intimately 
without  experiencing  to  some  degree,  a  feel- 
ing of  sublime  calm  in  the  presence  of  the 
eternal  verities.  But  it  could  hardly  be 
said  that  this  discovery  had  produced  prac- 
tical effects  only  upon  meditative  philoso- 
phers, because  they  alone  have  been  aroused 
to  deep  emotions.  The  will  of  a  nation,  or  of  a 
political  party,  is  one  of  its  resulting  affect- 
ive stages  (its  daily  interests,  fears,  sympa- 
thies, etc.).  It  must  be  admitted  that  abstract 
ideas  are  not  very  efficacious  in  leading  a 
people.  It  is  not  necessary  to  do  more  than 
to  call  our  readers'  attention  to  this  point. 
They  will  find  numerous  illustrations  in  his- 
tory of  the  feeble  effect  of  abstract  ideas  as 
contrasted  with  the  power  of  emotions. 

They  will  distinguish  between  pure  ideas 
and  emotions,  and  see  how  far  suffering, 
anger,  fear,  and  hope  have  helped  to  feed  the 
flame  of  patriotism  which  burns  in  all  of  us. 
As  for  individual  examples,  the  most  casual 
glance  at  the  "comedy  of  life"  will  furnish 
them  by  the  dozens.  In  addition  to  the  illus- 
trations quoted  at  the  beginning  of  this 

[81] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

chapter,  they  will  note  how  the  very  pious 
who  would  not  dream  of  neglecting  a  church 
service,  will  tear  their  "friends'  '  repu- 
tations to  pieces.  They  will  see  political 
men  parading  their  philanthropy,  when  they 
would  recoil  with  disgust  from  the  idea 
of  visiting  stuffy  garrets  and  coming  in  con- 
tact with  the  unclean  and  vulgar  poor.  They 
will  be  perfectly  paralyzed  at  certain  dis- 
turbances in  their  own  consciences  provoked 
by  sensuality,  and  they  will  stand  aghast  at 
the  ignoble  ideas,  which  a  secretion  accumu- 
lated in  the  body  is  capable  of  exciting  in  a 
mind  which  as  a  rule  is  under  perfect  con- 
trol. As  a  result  of  this  feeling  of  helpless- 
ness they  are  driven  to  the  idea  of  sacrificing 
absolutely,  not  only  their  own  existence,  but 
even  that  self-esteem  which  can  produce  a 
profound  religious  sentiment. 

They  impress  upon  their  minds  the  truth 
of  the  saying  in  the  "Imitation  of  Christ, " 
qui  amat  non  laborat.  For  when  one  loves, 
all  work  is  easy  and  delightful.  They  will  see 
how  lightly  the  maternal  passion  will  over- 
throw ideas  of  honor  and  patriotism.  "Let 
him  live !  I  care  not  if  he  be  disgraced !  Only 

[82] 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

let  him  live!"  And  they  will  also  see  an  in- 
verse phenomenon  in  the  ardent  patriotism 
of  a  Cornelia,  and  realize  that  the  most 
powerful  emotions  can  be  successfully 
opposed  by  secondary  and  artificially  created 
emotions.  This  example  proves  the  possi- 
bility of  uprooting  the  deepest  instinctive 
sentiments.  After  glancing  at  such  cases, 
however  rapidly,  no  one  could  refuse  to  ad- 
mit the  complete  power  of  the  affective,  or 
emotional,  states  over  the  will. 

Unfortunately,  if  the  emotional  side  of  our 
nature  is  decidedly  the  stronger  in  our  psy- 
chological life,  our  power  over  it  is  apt  to  be 
weak.  And  what  is  more  serious,  an  ex- 
amination of  facts  convinces  us  not  only  that 
this  weakness  is  real,  but  that  it  could  not  be 
otherwise.  This  helplessness  is,  in  fact,  a 
result  of  nature  as  well  as  a  sentiment. 

We  have  shown  elsewhere  that  all  com- 
munications with  the  outer  world  must  neces- 
sarily be  through  the  action  of  our  muscles : 
if  no  muscles,  then  no  external  expression. 
Therefor  all  impulse  coming  from  without, 
by  whatsoever  channel,  has  the  power  of 
provoking  a  response  from  the  being  who 

[83] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

receives  it.  A  muscular  response  of  course 
is  understood.  External  impressions  are 
extremely  different;  hence  the  wide  range  of 
muscular  adjustments.  But  under  what- 
ever form  a  muscular  action  takes  place,  it 
makes  necessary  an  expenditure  of  energy. 
Nature  has  ingeniously  provided  for  this 
expenditure.  When  an  impression  strikes 
the  senses,  the  heart  suddenly  begins  to  beat 
more  rapidly,  the  respiration  is  accelerated, 
and  all  the  functions  of  nutrition  are,  as  it 
were,  touched  up  with  a  whip.  This  instan- 
taneous physiological  flutter  is  what  really 
constituted  an  emotion.  The  emotion  is  only 
strong  in  proportion  as  this  flutter  or  quick- 
ening is  strong,  and  if  it  is  lacking,  the 
emotion  is  also  lacking.  Now  this  flutter  is 
automatic,  and,  what  is  more,  it  is  almost 
wholly  beyond  the  control  of  our  will,  which 
is  very  annoying  to  us,  as  masters  of  our- 
selves.1 

We  can  neither  stop,  nor  even  directly 
modify,  our  heart  beats.  We  can  not  calm  a 
spasm  of  terror  by  preventing  the  semi- 

1  ' '  Eevue  philosophique, ' '  May,  1890.  ' '  Sensation,  plaisir 
et  douleur,"  F.  Alcan. 

[84] 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

paralysis  of  the  intestines.  No  one  can  be 
more  deeply  imprest  than  we  ourselves  with 
the  idea  that  the  men  who  are  masters  of 
themselves  are  extremely  rare,  and  that 
liberty  is  the  recompense  of  prolonged 
efforts  which  few  people  have  the  courage 
to  attempt.  The  result  is,  that  nearly  all 
men  are  slaves  to  the  law  of  c[g termini  am. 
and  are  guided  by  their  vanity  and  their 
irritable  impulses.  And  in  consequence,  as 
Nicole  has  said,  they  are  in  the  great  ma- 
jority of  instances  "  marionettes "  which  one 
can  not  but  pity. 

However  basely  they  may  treat  one,  the 
only  truly  philosophical  attitude  one  can 
adopt  toward  them  is  that  of  calm,  superior 
serenity.  Let  Alceste,  who  believes  in  free 
will,  storm  and  rage — without  accomplishing 
anything  by  it,  for  that  is  the  law  of  nature, 
but  give  us  the  smiling  tranquil  attitude  of 
Philinte. 

Altho  within  my  anger  burns  the  same 
As  yours  in  you,  yet  no  one  sees  the  flame. 
But  none  the  less  I  look  with  like  disgust, 
On  selfish  men  who  show  themselves  unjust, 
As  on  malicious  apes  or  beasts  of  prey, 
Or  greedy  vultures  hovering  o  'er  the  fray. 

[85] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

This  theoretically  is  what  the  attitude  of 
the  thinker  should  be.  If  he  must  avenge 
himself,  let  him  do  so  calmly.  But,  properly 
speaking,  the  truly  wise  man  does  not  seek 
vengeance.  He  only  tries  to  protect  his  future 
by  correcting  those  who  disturb  his  mental 
poise,  in  such  a  way  that  henceforth  they 
will  understand  that  it  is  better  to  leave 
him  in  peace.  Instead  of  this  lofty  calm, 
what  do  we  behold?  Our  self-esteem  is 
wounded  or  some  malicious  gossip  is  brought 
to  us,  and  immediately,  in  spite  of  ourselves, 
we  have  a  physiological  reaction.  Our  heart 
begins  to  beat  irregularly  and  convulsively. 
It  behaves  as  if  its  action  were  ruined.  Its 
contractions  are  imperfect,  spasmodic  and 
painful.  The  blood  is  sent  rushing  to  the 
brain  in  violent  jerks,  congesting  that  deli- 
cate organ  and  starting  up  a  torrent  of 
violent  thoughts,  visions  of  vengeance,  and 
absurd,  exaggerated  impractical  ideas.  Our 
philosophy  looks  on  helplessly  at  this  wholly 
animal  outbreak  of  passion,  which  it  disap- 
proves of  and  deplores.  Why  this  helpless- 
ness? Simply  because  our  emotions  have 
invariably  an  antecedent  visceral  disturb- 

[86] 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

ance  over  which  our  wills  have  no  control. 
And  not  being  able  to  moderate  this  organic 
disturbance,  we  can  not  prevent  its  reaction 
from  invading  our  consciousness  and  being 
translated  into  psychological  terms. 

Is  it  necessary  to  multiply  examples  f  Does 
not  what  we  call  our  sensibility,  or  emotion, 
furnish  us  with  crucial  proof  of  the  organic 
cause  of  physical  disturbances?  Does  not 
our  transitory  rage,  as  well  as  our  auto- 
matism of  ideas,  cease  as  soon  as  the  phys- 
iological cause  ceases?  It  is  necessary  to 
refer  again  to  the  example  of  fear  we  have 
just  analyzed?  Is  it  not  perfectly  clear 
that  we  must  be  without  control  over  our 
emotions  because  their  underlying  causes, 
being  physiological  in  nature,  are  beyond 
our  control? 

Let  me  analyze  a  personal  experience, 
which  will  plainly  show  how  unequal  the  con- 
flict is,  when  our  thoughts  try  to  struggle 
with  our  viscera.  One  day  word  was  brought 
to  me  that  my  child,  who  had  started  out  in 
the  morning  to  make  a  visit,  had  not  reached 
the  house  of  the  friend  who  expected  him. 
My  heart  immediately  started  to  beat  more 

[87] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

quickly.  But  I  began  to  reason  with  myself, 
and  at  once  thought  of  a  plausible  excuse  for 
his  non-appearance.  All  the  same,  my  ex- 
treme anxiety  over  the  circumstance  and  the 
idea  suggested  by,  I  do  not  know  whom,  that 
the  child  might  have  gone  to  play  by  the 
edge  of  a  very  deep  and  rapid  stream  near 
the  house,  succeeded  in  upsetting  me.  Al- 
tho  I  immediately  realized  that  the  horri- 
ble possibility  was  extremely  improbable, 
nevertheless  the  physiological  agitation  of 
which  we  have  spoken  became  extreme.  My 
heart  beat  as  tho  it  would  burst.  I  had  a 
painful  bristling  sensation  on  my  scalp  as 
tho  my  hair  were  standing  up  on  end.  My 
hands  trembled  and  the  wildest  ideas  ran 
through  my  brain,  in  spite  of  all  my  efforts 
to  chase  away  my  fears,  which  my  judgment 
told  me  were  unreasonable.  The  child  was 
found  after  a  half -hour  search,  but  my  heart 
still  continued  to  beat  violently.  The  curious 
thing  was  that  this  agitation,  which  I  had 
so  earnestly  tried  to  ignore,  feeling,  as 
it  were,  frustrated  of  its  end,  seemed  de- 
termined to  find  expression,  and  drove  me 
(for  the  material  workings  of  anger  and 

[88] 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

anxiety  are  obviously  the  same)  to  make  a 
scene  with  the  poor  servant,  who  could  not 
help  what  had  happened.  All  at  once  I  stopt 
short,  struck  by  the  expression  of  grief  on 
the  poor  girl's  face,  and  I  decided  to  let  the 
tempest  die  down  of  itself,  which,  however, 
took  some  time. 

Each  one  of  us  can  make  similar  observa- 
tions upon  himself,  and  each  one  will  arrive 
at  the  same  doleful  conclusion,  that  we  can 
have  no  direct  power  over  our  emotions. 

We  seem  to  be  driven  into  a  corner.  The 
task  of  mastering  self  is  evidently  an  im- 
possible one.  The  title  of  this  book  is  a 
snare,  and  the  education  of  self  is  a  delusion. 

On  the  one  hand,  I  can  control  only  my 
thoughts.  The  intelligent  use  of  determin- 
ism makes  me  free  and  allows  me  to  make 
use  of  the  laws  of  association  of  ideas.  But 
the  idea  is  a  helpless  thing.  It  has  only  a 
mock  power  over  the  brute  forces  against 
which  we  must  struggle. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  the  emotions  are  so 
strong  in  us;  if  they  domineer  in  their  own 
fashion  over  our  perceptions,  memories, 
judgments,  and  reasonings,  and  if  the  fiercer 

tm 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

emotions  even  annihilate  the  tenderer  ones; 
if,  in  a  word,  they  exercise  almost  unlimited 
despotism,  they  will  remain  tyrants  to  the 
end,  and  will  never  take  orders  from  our 
reason  or  bow  to  our  will.  The  onfy  re- 
sources with  which  we  are  bountifully  sup- 
plied are  resources  which  we  can  not  use. 
The  constitution  which  rules  our  psycholog- 
ical life  bestows  the  greater  power  upon  the 
undisciplined  and  ungovernable  serf.  Our 
intellectual  powers  are  powers  only  in  name. 
They  are  allowed  a  voice  in  consultation,  but 
not  in  the  deliberative  body. 

There  seems  nothing  else  to  do  except  to 
throw  down  our  lance  and  shield  in  despair 
and  leave  the  field  of  combat;  to  accept  our 
defeat  meekly  and  to  take  refuge  in  fatal- 
ism, which  at  least  will  furnish  us  with  con- 
solation for  our  weaknesses,  laziness  and 
cowardice. 

Fortunately,  the  position  is  not  quite  so 
desperate  as  one  might  be  tempted  to  be- 
lieve. The  strength  which  the  intellect  does 
not  possess  may  be  given  to  it  by  a  very 
potent  factor  which  we  have  not  yet  men- 
tioned. What  the  great  liberating  power 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

can  not  actually  accomplish  of  itself,  time  in 
the  long  run  will  accord.  The  freedom  which 
can  not  be  achieved  immediately  can  be 
brought  about  by  stratagem  and  by  indirect 
measures. 

But  before  setting  forth  the  method  by 
which  we  may  free  ourselves,  it  would  be  as 
well  not  to  overlook  any  of  our  resources, 
and  to  find  out  whether,  possessing  little  or 
no  control  over  the  essential  in  our  emotional 
states,  we  could  not  do  something  to  influence 
the  secondary  elements  of  the  emotions. 

We  have  no  direct  psychological  means  of 
controlling  any  of  the  essentially  physio- 
logical material  which  includes  the  majority 
of  the  organs,  and  chiefly  the  heart,  which 
are  not  under  the  control  of  the  will.  Our 
only  methods  of  affecting  them  is  from  the 
outside,  and  are  therapeutic  measures.  A 
violent  fit  of  temper  could  be  calmed  by 
taking  a  little  digitalis,  which  has  the  power 
of  regulating  the  heart-beats. 

One  can  stop  the  most  violent  sexual  ex- 
citement by  the  use  of  anod^es.  One  can 
overcome  laziness,  either  physical  or  mental 
torpor,  by  taking  coffee.  But  this  beverage 

[91] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

quickens  the  heart-beats  and  gives  them  a 
spasmodic  action,  and  predisposes  many 
people  to  nervous  irritability.  In  a  great 
many  nervous  people  coffee  causes  dyspnosa 
and  a  sensation  of  constriction  and  trembling 
of  the  limbs.  It  also  has  a  tendency  to  make 
them  feel  deprest  and  anxious  without 
sufficient  cause,  and  even  to  be  subject  to 
unreasonable  terrors. 

But  such  means  of  treatment  are  soon 
summed  up,  and  all  taken  together  are 
hardly  worth  considering  in  the  effect  they 
would  have  in  giving  us  direct  control  over 
the  emotions. 

This  conclusion,  however,  does  not  apply  in 
at  all  the  same  way  to  anything  pertaining  to 
the  emotions  that  find  their  expression  in 
muscular  action.  The  external  expression  of 
the  emotion  is  under  our  control,  for  we  have 
the  power  to  perform  or  to  refuse  to  perform 
certain  movements.  There  is  a  constant  asso- 
ciation between  emotion  and  its  external  ex- 
pression. For  it  is  a  fundamental  law  in 
psychology  that  when  any  two  elements  have 
been  frequently  associated  together,  one  has 
a  tendency  to  awaken  the  other. 

[92] 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

It  is  in  accordance  with  this  law  that  the 
most  profound  of  the  practical  psychologists 
who  have  taken  up  the  question  of  the  educa- 
tion of  the  sentiments,  Ignatius  Loyola,  as 
well  as  Pascal,  recommended  external  acts  of 
faith  as  very  helpful  in  bringing  the  mind 
into  a  corresponding  emotional  state.  One 
knows  that  in  the  condition  of  hypnotic  sleep 
an  attitude  which  expresses  an  emotion  is 
able  to  suggest  the  latter.  Whatever  pas- 
sion one  may  wish  to  have  exprest  by  the 
patient's  attitude,  springs  suddenly  into  ex- 
istence the  moment  the  muscles  that  are  nec- 
essary to  manifest  this  passion  are  brought 
into  play,  and  the  whole  organization  re- 
sponds to  it.1 

Dugald- Stewart  relates  that  Burke  assured 
him  that  he  had  often  experienced  the  fact 
that  his  anger  grew  hotter  in  proportion  as 
he  allowed  himself  to  indulge  in  the  external 
signs  of  passion.  Is  it  not  true  that  dogs  and 
children,  and  even  grown-up  people,  who  be- 
gin to  fight  with  each  other  in  play,  generally 
end  up  by  getting  angry  with  each  other  in 
earnest?  Are  not  tears  as  well  as  laughter 

iCf   Braid,  ' '  Neurypnology. " 
[93] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

contagious?  Is  it  not  a  common  saying  that 
the  more  foolish  one  is,  the  more  one  laughs  ? 
Is  not  a  doleful,  morose  person  like  a  wet- 
blanket,  not  to  say  a  veritable  calamity  for 
any  family!  Were  not  the  laws  of  the  Chi- 
nese ceremonial  expressive  of  the  homage 
due  to  high  authority,  deliberately  estab- 
lished by  Confucius,  who,  like  Loyola  per- 
ceived that  gestures  tended  to  express  cor- 
responding sentiments?  Are  not  Catholic 
pomps,  with  their  profoundly  psychologic 
ceremonials,  singularly  well  adapted  to  make 
a  deep  impression  on  even  the  incredulous 
mind?  I  defy  any  of  the  faithful  to  keep 
back  a  feeling  of  reverence  in  his  soul,  at  the 
moment  when  the  chants  are  followed  by  the 
profound  silence  in  which  the  faithful  with 
one  accord  bow  themselves  before  the  Eter- 
nal. In  accordance  with  the  same  ideas,  does 
not  the  visit  of  a  friend,  who  is  bubbling  over 
with  gaiety,  pull  us  out  of  the  depths  and  set 
us  cheerfully  upon  our  feet?  It  is  unneces- 
sary to  go  on  adding  examples ;  one  can  find 
them  so  easily  everywhere  one  looks. 

Unfortunately,  what  is  aroused  are  feel- 
ings which  already  existed.     They  may  be 

[94] 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

awakened,  and  revivified  by  such  association, 
but  they  are  not  created.  The  sentiments 
thus  called  forth  will  remain  very  weak.  The 
process  acts  from  without,  and  what  is  within 
can  hardly  be  considered  as  more  than  a  val- 
uable aid.  It  serves  rather  to  maintain  the 
feeling  in  the  full  light  of  consciousness.  It 
does  what  we  have  seen  movements,  and  espe- 
cially writing,  do  for  thought.  It  is  of  great 
value  in  preventing  distractions  which  cause 
the  attention  to  wander.  It  helps  to  hold 
our  states  of  consciousness  in  their  proper 
order  and  to  prevent  them  from  breaking 
their  chain  of  sequence,  which  they  are 
always  ready  to  do  by  letting  some  new 
states  be  introduced.  But  to  think  one  could 
thus  introduce  into  the  mind  any  feeling 
whose  germ  was  not  already  there,  or  even 
were  it  already  there  but  only  in  germ,  is  to 
be  ignorant  that  the  essential  element  of  all 
sentiment  evades  our  grasp. 

Nevertheless,  when  an  emotion  wells  up 
within  us,  we  can  refuse  to  allow  ourselves 
to  express  it  externally.  For  the  expression 
of  anger,  it  is  positively  necessary  to  have 
the  fist  clenched,  the  jaws  set,  the  muscles  of 

[95] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

the  face  contracted,  and  to  pant  as  one  draws 
one's  breath.  I  can  command  my  muscles 
to  relax  and  my  lips  to  smile;  I  can  check 
my  spasmodic  breathing  and  draw  my  breath 
slowly.  But  if  I  have  not  tried  to  extinguish 
the  first  faint  sparks  of  passion,  or  to  stamp 
out  the  kindling  fire,  but  have  fanned  the 
emotion  to  a  flame,  and  let  it  grow,  my  efforts 
will  in  all  probability  be  useless,  especially 
if  the  will  does  not  call  from  within  the  help 
of  other  emotions,  such  as  the  feeling  of  per- 
sonal dignity,  the  fear  of  an  outbreak,  etc. 
One  could  make  the  same  statement  for  sen- 
sual feeling.  If  the  spirit  is  the  accomplice 
of  desire,  if  the  interior  resistance  is  weak, 
the  resistance  of  the  muscles  which  are  the 
agents  of  desire  will  not  last  long.  And  as 
a  general  rule,  it  is  of  no  use  trying  to  block- 
ade the  enemy  by  constructing  outworks 
against  him,  provided  the  invading  troops 
feel  that  their  chiefs  are  weak  and  are  ready 
to  surrender.  This  refusal  of  the  muscles  to 
obey  passion  ought  to  be  energetically  upheld 
by  all  the  internal  powers  which  are  con- 
nected with  it.  Our  direct  influence  to  excite 
an  emotion  in  the  mind  or  to  check  it,  or  to 

[96] 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

render  it  helpless,  and  above  all  to  destroy  a 
feeling,  is  therefore  weak.  The  only  thing 
that  these  external  means  can  furnish  us  is 
perhaps  a  supplement;  a  very  precious  sup- 
plement undoubtedly,  but  which  can  only 
augment  an  internal  action  which  is  already 
strong. 

If,  however,  we  were  confined  to  the  pres- 
ent, if  we  lived  from  day  to  day  without 
forethought,  it  would  be  useless  to  strive.  We 
would  helplessly  watch  the  conflict  of  ideas, 
emotions  and  passions  going  on  within  us. 
The  struggle  would  be  interesting,  but  our 
intelligence  would  be  a  spectator  discouraged 
in  advance.  It  could  find  some  amusement, 
as  one  does  in  betting  on  the  races,  by  pre- 
dicting what  the  issue  of  the  struggle  would 
be ;  and  would  in  the  end  probably  acquire  a 
sort  of  infallibility  in  this  prognosis.  In 
fact,  in  the  majority  of  people  the  intelli- 
gence plays  no  other  role  than  that,  because 
nearly  all  are  the  dupes  of  their  feelings.  Be- 
cause they  foresee  what  is  going  to  happen, 
and  because  it  happens  exactly  as  their  de- 
sires wish  it  to  happen,  they  believe  them- 
selves free.  The  intelligence,  ashamed  of  its 

[97] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

helplessness,  loves  to  delude  itself  with  the 
idea  that  its  power  is  sovereign.  But  in  real- 
ity the  natural  tendencies  deal  with  the  mat- 
ter without  it.  It  has  no  more  influence  on 
the  issue  of  the  conflict,  than  the  meteorolo- 
gist, who  knows  that  the  rain  will  fall  to- 
morrow, has  upon  the  degree  of  saturation  of 
the  atmosphere. 

But  the  outcome,  an  outcome  well  mer- 
ited by  those  who  have  made  no  effort 
to  conquer  their  liberty,  is  by  no  means 
unavoidable.  One  can  attain  the  power 
of  being  a  law  unto  one's  self.  The  liberty 
which  the  present  refuses  to  us,  time  will 
enable  us  to  achieve.  It  is  time  that  strikes 
off  our  chains.  Time  is  the  sovereign  power 
which  frees  our  intelligence,  and  makes  it 
possible  for  it  to  throw  off  the  bondage  of 
passions  and  animal  instincts.  For  emo- 
tional states  of  every  kind  are  but  blind  and 
brutal  forces,  and  it  is  the  fate  of  people  who 
can  not  see  ahead  of  them,  even  tho  they  be 
Hercules,  to  be  led  by  those  who  see  clearly. 
The  intelligence  must,  to  become  qualified, 
ally  itself  with  endurance ;  that  is  to  say,  by 
patient,  calm,  but  persistent,  measures;  it 

[98] 


THE  EMOTIONAL  STATES  IN  THE  WILL 

can  slowly  but  surely  possess  itself  of  power 
and  even  authority,  an  authority  that  will  be 
modified  only  by  the  laziness  of  the  sovereign, 
or  the  temporary  revolts  of  the  subject. 

We  now  must  study  the  nature  and  effects 
of  this  freedom,  which  can  be  brought  about 
by  time.  We  will  then  study  practical  ways 
of  attaining  this  freedom. 


L99] 


Ill 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

IN  undertaking  the  conquest  of  self  it  is  of 
the  utmost  importance  to  form  strong  bonds 
of  habit  between  ideas  and  conduct — bonds 
that  will  so  absolutely  unite  them  that  when- 
ever an  idea  comes  into  the  mind  the  action 
will  follow  it  with  the  precision  and  vigor  of 
a  reflex.  But,  as  we  have  learned  with  dis- 
couraging certainty,  the  emotions  alone  can 
cause  reactions  in  this  semi-automatic  fash- 
ion. Such  a  bond  between  an  idea — the  idea 
of  work,  for  example — and  its  transformation 
into  actions  will  never  be  formed  when  one 
is  indifferent  and  cold. 

It  is  necessary,  therefore,  if  we  would  weld 
an  idea  solidly  and  indestructibly  to  a  desired 
action,  that  we  should  fuse  them  together  by 
the  heat  of  an  emotion. 

It  is  possible  for  them  in  this  way  to  become 
irrevocably  united.  What  else  is  education  but 
the  bringing  into  play  of  powerful  feelings  to 
create  habits  of  thought  and  action;  that  is 

[100] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

to  say,  the  organization  in  the  child's  mind  of 
a  system  of  connections  in  which  ideas  are 
bound  to  other  ideas,  or  ideas  to  feelings,  or 
ideas  to  acts?  It  is  at  first  because  he  is 
driven  by  fear,  or  self-conceit,  or  by  the  de- 
sire to  please  his  parents,  that  a  child  little 
by  little  gains  sufficient  control  over  his  atten- 
tion to  enable  him  to  check  his  natural  tend- 
encies to  make  a  noise  and  jump  around, 
and  to  keep  himself  clean  and  at  work.  In 
other  words,  one  must  take  advantage  of 
strong  natural  feelings,  and  direct  them 
properly  in  order  to  break  the  connection  be- 
tween certain  tendencies  and  their  natural 
expression,  and  to  form  certain  strong  ties 
between  certain  ideas  and  certain  actions, 
which  did  not  before  exist. 

The  religious  emotions  of  any  epoch,  or  of 
any  profoundly  devout  movement,  have  a 
force  of  extreme  energy,  because  they  are 
composed  of  powerful  feelings  which  are 
themselves  elemental  and  which  are  bound 
into  a  coherent  group.  The  fear  of  public 
opinion,  the  respect  for  the  authority  of  per- 
sons clothed  with  sanctity,  the  memories  ac- 
cumulated by  education,  the  fear  of  external 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

punishments,  the  hope  of  heaven,  the  terror 
of  a  just  and  omnipresent  God  who  sees 
everything  and  listens  to  everything,  discern- 
ing even  one's  most  secret  thoughts,  all  these 
are  as  it  were,  melted  together  into  an  ex- 
tremely complex  emotional  state,  which,  how- 
ever, appears  simple  to  the  mind.  In  the 
burning  heat  of  these  strong  feelings  a  link 
is  forged  between  ideas  and  actions.  This 
explains  the  reason  why  in  superior  religious 
natures  an  injury  does  not  provoke  anger — 
in  such  people  the  idea  of  resignation  has  be- 
come so  strong  and  sincere — and  also  it  ex- 
plains why  there  is  no  struggle  necessary  to 
preserve  chastity.  Because  that  sensual  excite- 
ment which  enters  the  minds  of  those  moral- 
ly inferior  has  been  annihilated,  curbed  and 
purified.  Such  are  excellent  examples  of  the 
triumph  over  our  most  powerful  inherent 
tendencies,  which  may  be  won  by  the  single- 
handed  antagonism  of  our  nobler  sentiments. 
Benan  said, l  i  I  feel  that  my  life  is  still  gov- 
erned by  a  faith  which  I  no  longer  hold,  for 
faith  has  that  peculiar  quality  of  continuing 
to  act  even  after  it  has  disappeared. "  This 
is  true  not  alone  of  faith.  Any  deep  emotion 

[102] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

which,  during  any  length  of  time,  has  bound 
certain  actions  to  certain  ideas,  may  disap- 
pear, but  it  leaves  the  bond  which  it  has 
formed  behind  it,  just  as  in  a  syllogism  the 
middle  term  may  disappear,  but  the  conclu- 
sion can  be  reached. 

But  among  similar  relations,  which  are  so 
easily  established  by  feelings,  ideas  can  also 
group  themselves  in  such  a  way  as  to  gain 
control  of  the  emotional  states.  Nothing  is 
more  common.  In  the  education  which  we 
receive  in  the  family  and  at  school,  our  par- 
ents and  our  teachers,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  can  weld  any  chain  of  connections  which 
they  wish.  The  same  is  true  in  religion. 

But  when  we  ourselves  undertake  the  edu- 
cation of  ourselves,  this  is  no  longer  so.  The 
task  is  much  more  complicated,  it  requires  a 
profound  knowledge  of  our  own  psychological 
nature  and  its  resources.  When  school-days 
are  over,  the  young  people  who  have  hitherto 
been  guided  by  their  parents  or  their  teach- 
ers, and  who  have  been  held  by  rule  to  definite 
regular  hours  of  work,  all  at  once  find  them- 
selves thrown  upon  their  own  responsibility 
in  a  large  city,  without  any  special  prepara- 

[103] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

tion,  without  oversight,  often  without  advice 
and,  above  all,  without  any  definitely  ap- 
pointed duties;  for,  to  read  for  an  examina- 
tion for  a  degree  is  by  no  means  the  same 
thing  as  to  have  one's  hours  of  work  laid 
out  from  day  to  day  by  some  one  else.  There 
are  no  more  good  marks  by  which  to  check 
one's  work,  and  to  serve  as  the  only  incentive. 
How  remote  all  that  now  seems,  and  how  in- 
efficacious; before  that  dreaded  ordeal  that 
is  coming  at  the  end  of  the  year. 

But  the  majority  of  students  who  are  re- 
ceived in  spite  of  not  having  worked, 
banish  their  fears  and  only  begin  to  work 
during  the  last  months.  It  is  going  to  be 
necessary  then  for  the  student,  surrounded 
by  untoward  conditions,  to  subordinate 
everything  to  the  leadership  of  an  idea,  and 
find  support  in  sentiments  which  are  already 
existing  in  him. 

This  is  a  question  of  tactics,  but  first  we 
must  review  our  resources,  so  that  we  shall 
omit  none,  and  examine  closely  the  question 
of  how  to  bring  about  the  necessary  connec- 
tion between  certain  ideas  and  certain  lines 
of  conduct. 

[104] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

We  shall  first  take  up  the  relations  of  the 
idea  to  those  emotional  forces  which  are  fa- 
vorable to  the  mastery  of  self. 

The  philosophers,  alas !  too  few  in  number, 
who  have  interested  themselves  in  the  rela- 
tion between  intelligence  and  feeling,  are  in- 
clined to  distinguish  two  kinds  of  knowledge, 
the  purely  intellectual  and  the  knowledge 
that  comes  from  the  heart.1  This  is  an  in- 
correct way  of  stating  a  fundamental  truth. 
All  knowledge  is  intellectual,  but  when  the 
knowledge  is  accompanied  by  an  emotion 
there  is  an  intimate  mingling  of  the  intellec- 
tual elements  with  those  of  feeling,  and  the 
feeling  which  in  certain  ways  is  more  over- 
powering and  intense  than  the  idea,  places 
itself  in  the  full  light  of  consciousness, 
and  throws  its  associated  idea  into  the  shade. 
We  have  already  seen  examples  of  cold  dis- 
passionate ideas,  which,  suddenly  awakened 
violent  emotions,  so  much  so,  that  the  idea 
henceforward  could  not  rise  into  conscious- 
ness without  bearing  the  memory  of  the  emo- 
tion along  with  it — a  memory  which,  after 

i  Compare  Clay,  "  L  'Alternative, "  trans.  Burdeau,  p.  229. 
F.  Alcan. 

twi 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

all,  was  only  an  emotion  in  the  act  of  being 
armed.  It  is  thus  that,  since  my  own  vivid 
experiences,1  I  have  never  been  able  to  imag- 
ine myself  sliding  down  an  icy  slope  without 
immediately  experiencing  a  feeling  of  dizzi- 
ness. Here  there  has  been  established  a  con- 
nection between  an  idea  and  an  emotional 
state  which  was  hitherto  unknown,  and  which 
unfortunately  became  automatic,  following  a 
single  experience.  Can  such  connections  be 
artificially  formed!  If  the  reply  were  nega- 
tive, there  would  be  nothing  further  to  do 
concerning  the  education  of  the  will.  But  we 
have  just  seen,  that  all  education  is  based 
on  this  possibility.  Nevertheless,  can  a  stu- 
dent who  is  under  no  restraint,  who  has  only 
himself  to  depend  on,  accomplish  for  him- 
self as  much  as  parents  and  teachers?  If 
he  can  not,  the  education  of  one's  self  by 
one's  self  would  be  impossible. 

That  such  associations  must  be  difficult  to 
establish  is  very  certain.  That  they  require 
time  and  perseverance  is  also  certain.  But 
that  they  are  possible,  is,  we  believe,  more 
certain  still.  Therefore  this  possibility  is 

i  See  below,  Book  II,  Chap.  I,  Sec.  1. 
[106] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

our  hope  of  freedom.  To  make  such  a  state- 
ment is  equivalent  to  stating  that  we  are  free. 
Well,  we  do  not  hesitate  to  make  the  state- 
ment. Yes,  we  are  free;  each  one  of  us,  if 
he  desires  to,  can  associate  certain  senti- 
ments with  the  idea  of  a  disagreeable  bit  of 
work  which  will,  as  a  consequence,  make  it 
easy.  We  say  sentiments  in  the  plural,  be- 
cause, as  a  rule,  with  the  intellectual  worker, 
this  association  calls  into  play  a  great  many 
emotional  states.  Furthermore,  it  is  rarely 
the  result  of  a  single  experience  as  in  the  ex- 
ample already  quoted.  We  proceed  as  a  de- 
signer does,  with  successive  pencil-strokes ; 
each  association  brought  into  play  leaves  in 
our  consciousness,  thanks  to  the  law  of  habit 
which  begins  to  act  from  the  first  moment  of 
experience,  some  strokes  of  an  outlined 
sketch.  Those  which  we  achieve  in  moments 
of  strong  energy  bear  decisive  traits  which 
will  put  the  finishing  touches  to  the  rough 
outline  of  the  work  which  will  be  completed 
by  patient  retouching  and  filling  in. 

This  slow  elaboration  is  necessary  because 
solitary  work  of  the  mind  is  so  foreign  to 
human  nature.  Sustained  and  persevering 

[107] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

attention  is  so  difficult  for  a  young  man,  that, 
in  order  to  struggle  against  the  dislike  which 
he  feels  for  any  work  in  which  he  must  stead- 
ily concentrate  his  attention  upon  one  idea, 
he  needs  to  marshal  and  drill  all  the  emo- 
tional forces  which  he  can  muster  to 
strengthen  his  will  in  its  resistance  to  the 
fatal  power  of  inertia  and  laziness. 

Thus  if  one  asks  what  it  is  that  sustains 
the  energy  in  the  long  and  wearisome  series 
of  efforts  that  must  be  put  forth  when  we 
start  in  upon  the  task  of  writing  a  long 
book,  into  which  we  throw  our  hearts,  we 
would  answer  that  we  find  a  powerful  coali- 
tion of  feelings  all  pointing  toward  the  same 
end;  the  feeling  of  energy  which  gives  to 
work  such  a  degree  of  vigor;  meditation  re- 
warded by  its  results  and  by  the  joys  of  dis- 
covery; the  feeling  of  superiority  which  the 
pursuit  of  a  noble  aim  gives  us;  the  feeling 
of  strength  and  physical  well-being  which 
comes  from  using  all  our  pent-up  energy  in 
a  profitable  manner. 

We  may  add  to  these  strong  motives  the 
consciousness  of  the  esteem  of  those  who, 
while  doing  nothing  themselves,  nevertheless 

[108] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

follow  us,  some  with  perfect  sympathy,  and 
others  with  a  slight  tinge  of  jealousy,  and 
also  the  joy  of  seeing  our  intellectual  horizon 
grow  wider.  And  further,  we  must  add 
the  satisfaction  of  our  self-esteem,  our  ambi- 
tions and  anticipations;  the  joy  of  seeing 
those  who  are  dear  to  us  happy,  and  finally 
the  noblest  of  motives:  the  feeling  that  one 
can  help  many  young  people  who  are  going 
astray,  through  ignorance  of  the  path  they 
should  follow,  to  arrive  at  that  science  of 
sciences,  the  government  of  self.  Selfish  in- 
terest in  the  present  and  in  the  future,  as 
well  as  altruistic  and  impersonal  feelings, 
all  provide  us  with  a  rich  abundance  of  tend- 
encies, emotions,  and  passions  which  we 
can  call  to  our  aid,  and  whose  various,  hith- 
erto unrelated  energies  we  can  coordinate, 
so  that  we  can  change  what  has  heretofore 
been  a  dull  distasteful  effort  into  a  purpose 
with  an  attractive  and  brilliant  outlook.  We 
contemplate  our  work  with  all  the  warm  re- 
sponsive enthusiasm  we  possess,  just  as  the 
ardent  lover  pictures  in  his  dreams  the  young 
girl  whom  he  loves ;  with  this  difference,  how- 
ever, that  the  creation  of  such  illusions  with 

[109] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

the  lover  are  natural,  while  for  us  they  are 
deliberately  planned,  and  it  takes  a  long  time 
for  them  to  spring  up  spontaneously. 

If  the  miser  reaches  the  point  of  sac- 
rificing his  health,  his  pleasures,  and  even 
his  very  honesty  for  the  love  of  his  money, 
shall  not  we  succeed  in  learning  to  love 
so  noble  an  aim  as  intellectual  work  suffi- 
ciently to  make  us  sacrifice  our  laziness  for 
a  few  hours  every  day?  Here  is  a  merchant 
who  gets  up  at  five  o'clock  every  morning, 
and  who  until  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening 
is  at  the  beck  and  call  of  his  customers,  in 
the  hope  that  he  may  some  day  be  able  to 
retire  and  go  to  the  country  and  enjoy  a  com- 
plete rest.  Should  not  our  young  people 
therefore  spend  at  least  five  hours  a  day  at 
their  work-table  in  order  to  assure  for  them- 
selves, both  now  and  in  the  future,  the  mani- 
fold joys  of  intellectual  culture?  Supposing 
the  task  is  disagreeable — but  if  one  puts 
one's  heart  into  it,  it  never  is  so — one  may 
be  sure  by  the  laws  of  the  association  of 
ideas  that  habit  will  make  the  irksome  feel- 
ing grow  less,  and  that  it  will  not  be  long 
before  the  work  becomes  a  delight. 

[110] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

In  fact,  our  power  to  render  attractive,  by 
association,  what  was  not  so  at  first  stretches 
out  indefinitely.  We  may  cultivate  the  senti- 
ments favorable  to  our  will  to  the  point 
where  they  are  wholly  transformed.  Who 
would  recognize  in  that  delightful  sentiment 
of  the  mystic,  who,  to  quote  the  expression  of 
Saint  FranQois  de  Sales,  "let  his  soul  mingle 
and  flow  into  the  soul  of  God, ' '  a  synthesis  of 
love  and  that  fear  of  primitive  men,  who, when 
thrown  naked  into  the  lap  of  nature,  whose 
power  was  so  incomparably  greater  than 
theirs,  felt  keenly  their  helplessness  and  their 
terror  of  natural  forces?  In  the  same  way, 
it  is  only  by  turning  to  good  account  this 
feeling  of  the  shortness  of  life,  ' i  this  slipping 
away  of  the  hours  in  their  imperceptible 
flight,  which  frightens  us  when  we  think  of 
it,  and  the  endless  march  of  battalions  of 
tiny  seconds  which  wear  a^ay  the  body  and 
the  life  of  men, ' ' *  that  we  can  derive  benefit 
from  it  by  learning  not  to  be  led  away  by 
trivial  distractions. 

We  most  assuredly  can  neither  stimulate 
nor  create  feelings  which  do  not  already  ex- 

i  Guy  de  Maupassant,  ' '  Fort  comme  la  mort. ' ' 
[111] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

1st  in  consciousness.  But  I  do  not  believe 
that  any  of  the  elementary  feelings  are  lack- 
ing in  human  consciousness.  At  any  rate,  if 
there  are  some  men  who  differ  so  profoundly 
from  their  fellows  it  is  not  to  such  we  are 
speaking.  We  are  writing  a  treatise  for 
normal  young  people  and  not  a  manual  of 
abnormalities.  Moreover,  such  monsters  do 
not  exist.  Where,  for  instance,  has  one  ever 
seen  men  whose  chief  characteristic  is  cruel- 
ty, and  who  never  under  any  circumstance 
whatsoever  felt  a  sense  of  pity  either  for 
their  relatives  or  for  themselves?  We  say 
never,  because  if  such  emotions  were  even 
rarely  there,  they  would  never  grow  less,  and 
it  would  be  possible  to  increase  them.  We 
know,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  most  com- 
plex and  noble  feelings  are  syntheses  formed 
by  the  intimate  association  of  many  elemen- 
tary feelings.1  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  vigorous  and  prolonged  attention 
of  the  mind  upon  any  conscious  state  what- 
ever tends  to  draw  it  into  the  full  light  of 
consciousness,  and  consequently  to  enable  it 
to  awaken  other  associated  states,  and  to  be- 

i  Spencer,  ' '  Psychology, ' '  I.  ch.  ' '  Sentiments. ' '     Trans- 
lated Bibot.  F.  Alcan. 

[112] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

come  a  center  of  organization.  We  also 
maintain  (and  each  one  may  verify  this  by 
his  own  experience),  that  we  can  encourage 
and  strengthen  weak,  and,  as  it  were,  down- 
trodden emotional  states  which,  hitherto, 
have  been  buffeted  and  mortified  and  kept 
under  by  their  more  powerful  neighbors. 
They  exist  unseen,  like  the  stars  which  shine 
none  the  less  brightly  by  day,  altho  the  igno- 
rant do  not  suspect  their  presence.  Our 
attention,  which  we  can  focus  upon  any 
state  at  will,  takes  the  place  of  the  creative 
power  which  we  do  not  possess. 

Otherwise  how  can  we  explain  the  success 
of  novels,  and  furthermore,  how  is  it  that 
everybody  understands  them?  It  is  because 
they  call  forth  feelings  which  in  daily  life 
hardly  ever  have  any  opportunity  to  mani- 
fest themselves.  They  are  to  life  like  a  skir- 
mish or  a  mimic  war  in  the  absence  of  war 
in  earnest.  And  if  the  great  majority  of  the 
public  can  follow  the  romances  of  great  mas- 
ters, does  it  not  prove  that  in  most  of  the 
readers  the  emotions  are  merely  sleeping, 
and  only  waiting  for  a  call  to  bring  them 
forth  into  the  full  light  of  consciousness  ? 

[113] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

It  would  be  strange  if  we,  as  masters  of 
our  attention  and  imagination,  could  not  do 
for  ourselves  what  the  novelist  can  do  for 
us.  But  we  can  do  it.  I  can,  for  example, 
create  artificially  in  myself  a  feeling  of  rage 
or  tenderness  or  enthusiasm;  in  short,  any 
emotion  whose  help  I  need  in  order  to  arrive 
at  any  desired  end. 

Do  we  not  see  that  scientific  discoveries 
have  created,  in  the  human  sense  of  the  word, 
wholly  new  feelings  ?  Is  there  anything  more 
cut  and  dried  than  the  Cartesian  doctrine  of 
philosophy?  Nevertheless,  did  not  this  ab- 
stract theory,  falling  in  the  ardent  mind  of 
Spinoza,  arrange  according  to  a  new  system 
all  the  sentiments  which  had  hitherto  been 
scattered  in  his  mind,  and  group  them  around 
the  powerful  feeling  which  he  possest  of  our 
non-existence,  and  from  that  developed  the 
most  admirable  and  passionate  metaphysical 
romance  which  we  possess!  Can  one  say 
that  the  feeling  of  humanity  is  innate  in 
man?  Is  it  not  a  conscious  product,  a  new 
synthesis  of  incomparable  force?  And  is  it 
not  evident  that  Mill  was  right  when  he  wrote : 
44  This  feeling  of  unity  with  our  fellow  crea- 

[114] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

tures  shall  be  as  deeply  rooted  in  our  char- 
acter, and  to  our  own  consciousness  as  com- 
pletely a  part  of  our  nature,  as  the  horror  of 
crime  is  in  an  ordinarily  brought  up  young 
person. " x 

Therefore  does  it  not  appear  that  the  role 
of  tlje  intelligence  is  chiefly  to  bring  together 
and  to  unite  the  elementary  untrained  senti- 
ments into  working  order,  and  to  give  them 
distinct  expression  I  For  by  itself  every  emo- 
tional state  and  every  desire  is  vague,  blind 
and  helpless.  With  the  exception  of  the  in- 
stinctive feelings  of  anger  and  fear,  which 
can  find  external  expression  by  themselves, 
the  majority  require  the  cooperation  of  the 
intelligence.  They  cause  a  certain  feeling  of 
restlessness  and  discomfort  in  the  mind,  but 
it  is  the  intelligence  which  gives  the  true  sig- 
nificance to  this  feeling  of  discomfort.  It  de- 
volves upon  the  mind  to  find  out  ways  to  sat- 
isfy desire.  If  we  were  caught  in  a  terrible 
hurricane  on  Mont  Blanc,  suffering  with 
cold,  and  in  terror  of  a  horrible  death,  it 
would  be  our  intelligence  that  would  suggest 

i  Stuart  Mill,  ' '  Utilitarianism, ' '  Ch.  III.    Trans.  Le  Mon- 
nier.  F.  Alcan. 

[115] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

to  us  to  hollow  out  a  little  cave  in  the  snow- 
bank where  we  might  wait  until  the  danger 
was  over.  If,  like  Eobinson  Crusoe,  we  were 
cast  on  a  desert  island,  of  what  use  to  us 
would  be  the  longings  excited  by  our  misfor- 
tune, if  our  intelligence  did  not  set  to  work 
to  find  some  means  to  satisfy  them?  If  I  am 
in  poverty,  and  wish  to  escape  from  it,  again 
it  is  my  intelligence  that  will  point  out  to  me 
a  distinct  and  definite  line  of  action.  If  one 
compares  the  vague  indefinite  emotion  pro- 
duced by  the  sexual  tendencies  in  a  young 
man  who  is  perfectly  pure  and  unsophisti- 
cated, with  the  distinctness  and  energy  with 
which  the  desire  appears  after  a  first  experi- 
ence, one  will  understand  how  powerful  the 
intelligence  is  in  making  these  emotional 
states  distinct.  All  that  is  necessary  there- 
fore, to  give  vigor  and  life  to  an  emotion  or 
a  desire,  is  to  make  the  object  to  be  obtained 
perfectly  clear  in  the  mind,  so  that  all  its 
attractive,  delightful  or  simply  useful  aspects 
may  be  brought  boldly  into  relief. 

We  see,  therefore,  that  by  the  mere  fact 
that  we  are  intelligent  and  capable  of  fore- 
sight (to  know  being  not  exactly  the  same 

[116] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

thing  as  to  foresee),  we  can  utilize  every 
means  in  our  power,  which  we  have  studied, 
to  strengthen  the  allied  feelings;  we  can 
bring  very  little  direct  influence  from  with- 
out to  bear  on  our  effective  states,  but 
our  power  acquires  a  very  great  scope  by 
the  intelligent  application  of  the  laws  of  asso- 
ciation. 

We  shall  see  that  we  can  furthermore 
double  this  power  by  placing  ourselves  in  an 
environment  favorable  to  the  development  of 
certain  feelings,  such  as  a  family  circle,  or  by 
surrounding  ourselves  by  certain  comrades  or 
acquaintances,  by  choosing  our  reading  and 
by  selecting  as  examples  certain  people  whom 
we  wish  to  be  like.  But  we  shall  take  up 
at  greater  length  elsewhere  this  study  of  the 
indirect  method  of  acting  upon  ourselves. 
(Book  V). 

The  preceding  arguments  are  sufficient  to 
give  us  courage.  If  an  idea  needs  the  heat 
of  an  emotional  state  to  weld  it  to  an  action, 
there  is  no  doubt  at  all  that  we  can  produce 
this  heat,  whenever  we  have  need  of  it,  not 
by  merely  saying  that  we  can  do  so,  but  by 
the  rational  use  of  the  laws  of  association. 

[117] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

Thus  the  supremacy  of  the  intelligence  no 
longer  appears  impossible. 

But  we  must  examine  still  more  closely  the 
relation  of  the  idea  to  the  affections.  Feeling 
is  a  state  that  is  diffuse,  sluggish  and  slow  to 
arouse,  and  consequently  one  can  foresee,  on 
a  priori  principles,  what  experience  confirms, 
viz.,  that  feeling  is  a  comparatively  rare  state 
of  consciousness.  The  range  between  its  ap- 
pearance and  disappearance  is  very  wide. 
The  emotions  have  an  ebb  and  flow.  In  the  in- 
tervals the  mind  enjoys  a  period  of  calm  and 
tranquillity,  analogous  to  that  of  the  sea  at 
slack  water.  This  periodic  nature  of  the 
affective  states  enables  us  to  lay  a  very  firm 
foundation  for  the  triumph  of  rational  lib- 
erty. It  is  also  the  nature  of  thought  to  be 
perpetually  coming  and  going,  but  a  young 
man  who  has  already  been  educated,  either 
by  the  severe  discipline  of  business,  or 
by  the  instruction  of  his  parents  and  teach- 
ers, has  acquired  great  control  over  it.  He 
can  keep  in  mind  for  a  very  long  time  any 
representation  which  it  pleases  him  to  retain. 
In  comparison  with  the  instability  of  affective 
states,  an  idea  stands  out  in  sharp  contrast 

[118] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

by  its  duration  and  persistence.  It  remains 
present  during  the  flow  of  feeling  in  order  to 
be  able  to  take  advantage  of  the  flood,  and 
so  that,  during  its  ebb  it  can  turn  to  active 
profit  its  provisorial  dictatorship,  in  order  to 
start  works  of  defense  against  the  enemy  and 
reinforce  its  own  allies. 

When  feeling  surges  up  into  consciousness 
(we  are  now  only  concerned  with  feelings  that 
are  favorable  to  our  purposes),  we  must  seize 
the  occasion  to  launch  our  bark.  We  must 
take  advantage  of  our  good  moments  as  if 
the  voice  of  God  were  calling  us,  to  make 
good  resolutions.1  Whatever  may  be  the  ac- 
companying feeling  which  invades  the  soul, 
let  us  immediately  make  use  of  it  for  our 
work.  Have  we  heard  of  the  success  of  a 
comrade,  and  has  this  whipt  up  our  wavering 
will;  if  so  then  let  us  get  quickly  to  work! 
Quick,  let  us  courageously  clear  out  of  the 
way  the  task  which  has  been  tormenting  us 
for  the  last  few  days,  because  we  were  unable 
to  make  up  our  mind  to  get  right  at  it  and 
attack  it,  and  also  unable  to  get  rid  of  the 
idea  that  we  ought  to  do  this,  so  much  that 

i Leibnitz,  "New  Essays, "  II.,  35. 
[119] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

it  has  worn  upon  us  like  remorse.  If  to-day, 
after  reading  this  we  feel  a  sentiment  of  the 
dignity  and  nobility  of  work,  then  let  us  im- 
mediately take  up  our  pen !  Or  more  simply, 
if  we  experience  this  feeling  of  intellectual 
and  physical  vigor  that  makes  work  pleasant, 
then  let  us  get  right  down  to  our  task.  These 
favorable  moments  must  be  used  in  order  to 
form  strong  habits,  and  to  taste,  in  such  a 
way  as  to  preserve  the  flavor,  for  as  long  a 
time  as  possible,  the  manly  joys  of  productive 
and  fruitful  work,  and  the  pride  of  self-mas- 
tery. 

The  feeling  on  ebbing  away,  will  have  left 
a  beneficent  deposit  in  the  form  of  a  stronger 
habit  of  work,  the  memory  of  the  joys  which 
one  has  experienced,  and  of  energetic  resolu- 
tions. 

Then  when  the  feeling  has  disappeared,  in 
the  calm  which  succeeds  it,  dictatorial  power 
belongs  to  the  idea  which  alone  remains  in 
consciousness.  But  ideas,  as  Schopenhauer 
remarks,  are  like  the  dam  of  the  reservoir 
which,  when  the  springs  of  morality  flow, 
which  they  do  not  always  do,  succeeds  in  ac- 
cumulating good  sentiments,  and  which,  when 
[  120  ] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

the  occasion  comes,  lets  them  be  distributed 
where  they  are  needed  by  the  canals  of  dis- 
persion.1 This  comes  back  to  the  same  thing, 
as  we  have  said,  namely,  that  the  union 
effected  between  the  ideas  and  actions,  under 
the  influence  of  the  feelings,  lasts,  and  on  the 
other  hand,  the  idea,  having  been  associated 
frequently  with  a  feeling  of  happiness,  is  able 
at  last,  even  in  the  absence  of  these  actual 
presentative  feelings,  to  awaken  them  by  the 
laws  of  association  to  a  slight  degree  only, 
it  is  true,  but  nevertheless  sufficiently  to  bring 
about  action. 

After  having  studied  the  relations  of  the 
intelligence  to  the  favorable  affective  states, 
it  remains  for  us  to  study  the  connection  be- 
tween the  intellect  and  those  affective  or  emo- 
tional states  which  are  hostile  to  the  work  of 
mastering  self. 

We  have  seen  that  our  direct  power  over 
our  affective  states,  desires,  and  passions  is 
very  weak,  and  in  fact  hardly  appreciable. 
Our  means  are  only  indirect.  We  have  no 
power  over  anything  excepting  our  muscles, 
and  the  course  of  our  ideas.  We  can  repress 

i ' '  Fondament  de  la  morale, ' '  Fr.,  trans  F.  Alcan,  p.  125. 
[121] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

external  manifestations  of  emotions  and  sup- 
press their  natural  language.  The  courtezan, 
and  the  man  of  the  world,  who  is  often  a  very 
timid  courtezan,  standing  in  the  greatest 
dread  of  a  most  tyrannical  and  unenlightened 
power — that  is  to  say,  public  opinion — both 
acquire  to  a  very  high  degree  the  power  of 
repressing  all  external  expression  of  their 
hatred,  anger,  indignation,  or  disdain. 

On  the  other  hand,  desire  and  tendencies 
are  absolutely  apart  from  the  exterior  world ; 
they  can  only  satisfy  themselves  by  muscular 
actions:  anger  gets  satisfaction  by  inflicting 
injuries  or  blows;  love  by  embraces,  kisses 
and  caresses.  But  our  muscles  depend  upon 
our  will,  and  since  we  can  temporarily  refuse 
to  allow  our  members  to  serve  a  passion,  it 
is  clear  that  we  can  develop  our  power  and 
finally  succeed  in  concealing  our  emotion 
within  ourselves. 

Since  all  tendencies  or  feelings  demand,  by 
the  law  of  the  conservation  of  energy,  that 
they  shall  spend  themselves  in  some  way, 
when  a  feeling  is  thus  checked  from  the  out- 
side, it  is  thrown  inward  and  is  apt  to  invade 
the  brain  and  to  provoke  a  rush  of  disordered 

[122] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

ideas,  which  in  their  turn  will  arouse  asso- 
ciated feelings.  It  is  in  this  sense  that  Pas- 
cal said:  "The  greater  the  mind  the  greater 
the  passions. " 

But  do  not  let  us  forget  that  the  direction 
of  our  thoughts  lies  in  our  own  hands;  we 
can  prevent  the  conflagration  from  spreading 
further  and  further.  Sometimes  we  must 
even  fight  on  the  side  of  the  fire,  if  we  feel 
that  it  is  impossible  to  extinguish  it,  and 
then,  we  can  let  our  anger  expend  itself 
in  words,  or  in  projects  of  vengeance,  feeling 
sure  that  we  can  gain  control  over  ourselves 
when  the  dispersion  of  our  wrath  through 
these  channels  shall  have  sufficiently  appeased 
the  stupid,  blind  emotion  which  forces  our 
wills  to  beat  prudent  retreats.  We  allow  our 
adversary  to  exhaust  itself  before  we  begin 
offensive  operations. 

Sometimes  we  can  enter  into  an  active  en- 
gagement. For,  we  have  seen  that  a  tendency 
which  is  somewhat  complex,  because  it  is 
blind,  has  always  need  of  the  intellect.  It 
hangs,  so  to  speak,  on  an  idea.  It  is  like  the 
union  of  the  shark,  whose  sight  is  weak  and 
whose  sense  of  smell  is  wanting,  with  the 

[123] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

pilot-fish,  which  guides  it  toward  its  prey, 
and  without  which  this  monster  of  the  sea 
would  plunge  ahead  with  brute  strength,  but 
without  discernment. 

Now  the  first  effect  of  all  passion  and  all 
desire  is  to  pervert  the  intelligence  and  make 
its  own  wishes  appear  legitimate.  There  is 
no  lazy  man  who  has  not  plenty  of  good  rea- 
sons for  doing  nothing,  and  who  has  not  a 
ready  answer  to  offer  to  any  one  who  wants 
to  stimulate  him  to  work.  A  despot  would 
be  wanting  in  understanding  of  his  part,  if 
he  were  not  imbued  with  a  sense  of  his  own 
superiority  over  those  whom  he  is  ruling,  and 
if  he  had  not  appreciated  the  enormous  in- 
convenience that  liberty  would  be  to  him.  A 
passion  legitimized  by  sophisms  becomes  for- 
midable. Therefore,  it  is  the  idea,  or  a  group 
of  ideas,  which  act  as  pilot  to  the  emotional 
state,  that  we  must  closely  examine  if  we  wish 
to  diminish  the  power  of  the  latter. 

It  is  these  sophisms  which  we  must  pick  to 
pieces  and  destroy.  It  is  the  illusions  with 
which  passion  surrounds  an  object  that  we 
must  dispel.  And  thus,  a  distinct  vision  of 
falsehood  and  error,  and  the  consequent  dis- 

[124] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

covery  of  the  fallacious  promises  of  the  pres- 
ent and  of  a  deceptive  future,  a  glimpse  be- 
forehand of  unfortunate  consequences  to 
our  vanity,  our  health,  our  happiness  and 
our  dignity  will  arouse  in  opposition  to  the 
desire  the  necessary  considerations  to  over- 
throw it,  namely,  other  desires  and  other 
emotional  states,  which  were  in  danger  of  be- 
ing crowded  out.  These  latter  will  hinder  the 
former  and,  even  tho  they  do  not  succeed  in 
wholly  overcoming  them,  they  will  render 
their  victory  questionable  and  uncertain. 
They  will  instil  feelings  of  doubt  and  unrest 
into  the  too  tranquil  mind.  In  this  way  one 
must  consciously  raise  up  adversaries  against 
that  mental  laziness  that  is  content  with 
itself;  adversaries,  which  will  become  adept 
in  the  struggle,  and  which  will  finally  succeed 
in  leading  one  on  to  more  and  more  frequent, 
and  more  and  more  decisive  victories.  We 
recall  the  charming  character  of  Cherubin  in 
the  *  '  Marriage  of  Figaro. ' ' 

"I  no  longer  know  who  I  am,"  he  cries; 
"for  some  time  past  agitation  stirs  my 
breast ;  my  heart  palpitates  at  the  very  sight 
of  a  woman;  the  mere  words  love,  passion, 

[125] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

startle  and  excite  it.  In  fact,  the  need  of 
saying  to  some  one  *I  love  you/  has  become 
so  strong  and  imperative  that  I  say  it  when 
I  am  all  alone;  while  walking  in  the  park;  I 
would  say  it  to  your  mistress,  to  you,  e\en  to 
the  trees,  and  to  the  wind.  Yesterday  I  met 
Marceline.  .  .  ." 

Suzanne,  laughing,  exclaims  at  this,  "Ah! 
ah!  ah!  ah!  ah!"  To  which  Cherubin  re- 
plies: "Why  not?  She  is  a  woman!  She  is 
a  girl !  A  woman !  ah !  how  sweet  those  words 
are!" 

If  Cherubin  had  been  capable  of  control- 
ling himself  temporarily,  if  he  had  brought 
himself  to  look  closely  at  Marceline  and  to 
notice  how  ugly  and  old  and  stupid  she  was, 
his  desire  would  have  been  seriously  dimin- 
ished, and  that  would  have  killed  it.  Atten- 
tive examination  would  have  led  to  the  truth. 
Strong  passion  prevents  the  awakening  of  a 
critical  spirit.  The  moment  that  voluntary 
criticism  is  possible  passion  is  in  danger  of 
perishing.  The  lazy  man,  even  he  who  is  best 
provided  with  excellent  excuses  in  the  form 
of  sophisms,  has  moments  of  enthusiasm  at 
certain  times,  when  the  advantages  of  the 

[126] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

happiness  of  work  over  a  lazy  life  appear 
attractive,  and  these  moments  make  it  impos- 
sible henceforward  for  him  to  lead  a  lazy  life 
without  twinges  of  remorse. 

What  is  possible  when  one  sets  truth 
against  sophisms  is  possible  in  cases  which 
seem  even  more  difficult;  that  is,  when  it  is 
a  question  of  trying  to  overthrow  a  sophism 
by  veritable  voluntary  illusions,  or,  what  is 
still  harder,  when  it  is  necessary  to  oppose  a 
truth  which,  however,  is  contrary  to  the  work 
of  self-mastery,  with  a  fabrication  of  useful 
fictions. 

It  is  clear  that  a  fiction  can  only  influence 
our  conduct  when  we  lend  it  the  support  of 
faith.  If  it  is  nothing  more  than  an  empty 
formula,  a  "psittacism,"  a  parrot-like  creed, 
it  will  be  of  no  use  to  us.  But  here  you  may 
stop  us  and  laugh !  What !  Are  we  wittingly 
and  deliberately  to  deceive  ourselves  and  to 
become  voluntary  dupes?  That  is  absurd! 
Yes ;  absurd  in  appearance,  but  perfectly  ex- 
plicable to  any  one  who  reflects  upon  the  ex- 
traordinary power  of  enfranchisement  which 
the  laws  of  attention  and  memory  can  bestow 
upon  us. 

[127] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

Is  it  not,  in  fact,  the  most  general  law  of 
memory  that  all  remembrances  which  are  not 
refreshed  from  time  to  time  tend  to  become 
less  distinct  and  somewhat  confused?  They 
grow  fainter  and  fainter  until  they  disappear 
altogether  from  common  memory.1  Now,  as 
we  are  to  a  very  large  degree  masters  of  our 
attention,  we  can  condemn  a  remembrance  to 
death  by  merely  refusing  to  consider  it  again. 
We  can,  on  the  other  hand,  give  it  whatever 
intensity  we  wish  it  to  have  in  consciousness 
by  continually  bestowing  our  most  vigorous 
attention  upon  it.  All  intellectual  workers 
get  to  the  point  of  retaining  only  what  they 
wish  to  retain.  Everything  to  which  they  do 
not  return,  and  to  which  they  give  no  further 
thought,  disappears  absolutely  from  their 
minds  (except,  of  course,  with  a  certain  few 
exceptions).  Leibnitz  thoroughly  understood 
what  an  influence  this  law  could  have  upon  us 
when  we  desire  finally  to  acquire  a  conviction 
which  we  do  not  possess.  "We  can/'  said  he, 
1  'make  ourselves  believe  what  we  want  to  be- 
lieve by  turning  our  attention  away  from  the 

i  We  add  this  word  ' '  common ' '  to  avoid  raising  the  ques- 
tion whether  anything  once  stored  in  memory  is  ever  abso- 
lutely lost. 

[128] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

disagreeable  side  of  the  question,  and  fasten- 
ing it  on  some  other  aspect  which  pleases  us ; 
what  is  accomplished  is  that,  after  we  have 
looked  at  a  question  in  a  favorable  light  for 
some  time,  its  truth  becomes  more  probable 
to  us."  In  fact,  a  conviction  must  neces- 
sarily spring  from  motives  in  the  mind,  but 
the  very  act  of  collecting  these  motives  is  to  a 
certain  extent  the  same  thing  as  investigat- 
ing them. 

But  we  may,  if  we  wish,  falsify  this  inquiry 
in  one  of  two  ways.  First,  one  is  free  to 
leave  it  incomplete,  to  refuse  to  glance  at 
certain  very  important  considerations.  As 
every  inquiry  demands  a  certain  activity  of 
spirit,  and  as  laziness  is  so  natural  to  us, 
nothing  is  easier  than  to  stop  too  soon.  It  is 
twice  as  easy  if  we  are  afraid  that  we  shall 
encounter  certain  motives  which  are  displeas- 
ing to  us.  Then,  when  we  have  cut  the  in- 
quiry short  in  the  middle,  we  are  also  free  to 
appraise  the  values  of  the  motives,  and  to 
let  our  desires  lay  especial  stress  on  those 
which  please  us,  and  to  scant  the  weight  of 
the  others.  A  young  man  who  loves  a  young 
girl,  and  who  has  quite  made  up  his  mind  to 

[129] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

marry  her,  will  refuse  to  listen  to  any  infor- 
mation concerning  her  family,  the  condition 
of  their  health,  or  the  source  of  their  income. 
If  it  is  proved  that  these  are  not  all  that  they 
should  be,  what  does  it  matter  to  him !  Should 
a  young  girl  be  held  responsible  for  the  faults 
of  her  ancestors  ?  On  the  other  hand,  if  he  is 
seeking  to  free  himself  from  certain  ties 
which  have  become  irksome  to  him,  and  from 
promises  which  in  his  inexperience  he  made 
at  a  moment  when  he  was  overcome  by  his 
senses,  he  will  be  terribly  keen  on  this  ques- 
tion of  family  responsibility  even  to  the  most 
remote  ancestors. 

But  it  is  true  that  our  motives  can  hardly 
be  compared  to  weights  which  are  always 
identical  in  value.  Just  as  one  figure  placed 
before  another,  or  before  two  others,  makes 
the  number  ten,  or  one  hundred  times  as  much, 
so  a  motive  takes  on  different  values  accord- 
ing to  which  one  of  several  sentiments  it  is 
associated.  And  as  we  are  to  a  very  large  de- 
gree the  masters  of  these  associations,  we  can 
bestow  any  value  or  efficacy  that  we  wish  to 
the  ideas  which  we  prefer. 

Furthermore,  we  can  uphold  this  mental 

[130] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

construction,  or  arrangement,  by  favorable 
influences  from  outside ;  we  have  not  only  the 
present  at  our  command,  but  through  our 
memory  we  can  use  the  past,  and  by  skilful 
employment  of  the  resources  of  our  intelli- 
gence can  become  masters  of  the  future.  We 
are  free  to  choose  our  reading  in  such  a  way 
as  to  eliminate  books  which  would  be  apt  to 
stimulate  our  sexual  tendencies  and  to  pre- 
dispose us  to  those  vague  sentimental  day- 
dreams which  are  so  favorable  to  laziness. 
We  can  above  all  cut  off  all  companionship, 
either  by  a  distinct  break  or  by  distant  cold- 
ness, with  comrades  who,  by  the  tendency  of 
their  minds,  their  character,  or  their  manner 
of  life,  would  only  strengthen  any  evil  tend- 
encies which  we  might  have  and  lead  us 
into  dissipation  and  various  excesses,  and 
who  know  how  to  invent  plausible  excuses  for 
their  laziness.  We  do  not  all  possess  a  mentor 
who  will  throw  us  into  the  sea  at  the  critical 
moment  of  danger,  but  there  is  a  very  simple 
way  of  having  nothing  to  fear  on  the  Isle 
of  Perdition,  and  that  is  never  to  go 
near  it. 

Here,  then,  is  a  list  of  all  the  means  with 

[131] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

which  we  can  struggle  against  the  powerful 
enemies  of  right.  We  can  refuse  to  let  them 
express  themselves  in  the  language  which  is 
natural  to  them;  we  can  employ  clever  strat- 
egy to  undermine  the  errors  and  the  sophisms 
on  which  our  desires  hang,  and  even  wholly 
to  discredit  their  baleful  truths.  We  can 
combine  with  these  means  of  action  an  intelli- 
gent arrangement  of  external  measures,  such 
as  withdrawing  from  an  environment  which 
would  keep  on  inflaming  our  passions,  and 
thus  avoid  conditions  which  would  favor 
their  development. 

But  this  collection  of  tactical  procedures 
constitutes  preparation  for  work  rather  than 
work  itself.  This  preparation  may  be  sud- 
denly interrupted  by  some  passion  which  has 
developed  in  spite  of  our  efforts,  or  which 
more  often  has  been  profiting  by  our  inat- 
tention and  the  somnolence  of  our  will.  But 
when  the  storm  begins  to  threaten,  when  sen- 
sual feelings,  for  example,  begin  to  rise  into 
consciousness,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
ideas  are  the  sources  from  which  such  pas- 
sion derives  its  nourishment,  and  that  these 
ideas  which  passion  would  like  to  embrace 

[132] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

>•  ••  ™ '  -^^^— ^^— ^^^— ^— — ^^— —        — ^^—  — ^— «• 

for  its  own  purposes  we  can,  at  least,  attempt 
to  use  for  our  ends.  If  the  struggle  is  un- 
equal, if  the  conflagration  is  gradually  gain- 
ing headway  whatever  happens,  our  "fine 
pure  superior  will,"  that  "trenchant  blade, 
sharp  point  of  the  sword  of  the  spirit,"1 
must  never  consent.  But  as  this  tide  of  emo- 
tional states  does  not  consist  of  a  single 
force,  nor  a  solitary  burst  of  feeling,  but  of 
many  forces  at  variance  with  each  other,  the 
more  powerful  masking  the  opposing  and 
vanquished  forces  in  the  tumultuous  rush,  it 
is  necessary  for  us  to  bring  all  our  attention 
and  sympathy  to  bear  upon  our  weaker  allies. 
Possibly  we  shall  be  able  to  rally  them  and 
to  reopen  a  victorious  attack  upon  them,  or 
at  least  to  beat  a  retreat  in  good  order.  At 
all  events  we  shall  be  able  to  regain  control 
of  ourselves  more  easily  and  rapidly  and 
more  completely  than  otherwise.  For  exam- 
ple, when  a  feeling  of  sensuality  overcomes 
us,  we  must  never  for  a  single  moment  lose 
sight  of  the  shame  of  our  defeat ;  we  can  call 
up  and  perhaps  retain  in  the  mind  a  sort 
of  distinct  foretaste  of  the  feeling  of  depres- 

i  Saint  Francois  de  Sales :  ' '  Introduction  a  la  Vie  devote. ' ' 
Part  IV. 

[133] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

sion  which  will  follow  the  gratification,  the 
loss  of  a  good  day  of  active,  productive  work. 
In  the  same  way,  when  an  attack  of  laziness 
comes  on,  such  as  most  workers  have,  even 
tho  we  may  not  be  able  to  overcome  our 
inertia  or  to  conquer  the  revolts  of  the  dull 
i  i  brute "  within  us,  we  can  recall  to  mind  the 
delight  of  work  and  of  the  sense  of  self-mas- 
tery. The  attack  will  then  assuredly  not  be 
so  long,  and  recovery  will  be  easier.  It  is 
often  even  a  good  plan,  for  example,  to  give 
up  the  direct  struggle  and  calm  the  sensual 
emotion  by  getting  up  and  going  out  to  take 
a  walk  or  by  going  to  make  a  visit;  or,  in  a 
word,  by  trying  to  eliminate  the  fixt  idea  by 
wearing  it  out,  or  by  disturbing  it,  or  at  least 
by  obliging  it  to  share  its  consciousness  with 
other  states  which  we  can  introduce  artifi- 
cially. In  the  same  way  we  can  deceive  our 
laziness  by  reading  a  book  of  travel,  or  by 
drawing,  or  by  making  music ;  then  when  the 
spirit  moves  again,  we  must  take  advantage 
of  its  alertness  to  tempt  it  to  return  to  the 
work  that  was  abandoned  a  little  while  before 
by  reason  of  our  faint-heartedness  or  by  our 
slothful  feelings. 

[134] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

Finally,  even  tho  our  will  may  have  been 
beaten,  which  is  frequently  apt  to  happen,  we 
must  not  lose  courage.  It  is  enough  if,  like 
a  swimmer  who  meets  a  rapid  current,  we 
make  ever  so  little  headway.  It  is  even 
enough  to  prevent  us  from  losing  hope  en- 
tirely if  we  are  swept  along  less  rapidly  than 
we  would  have  been  if  we  had  let  ourselves 
go  altogether.  Time  will  accomplish  what  we 
want.  It  is  time  which  forms  habits  and 
which  gives  them  the  strength  and  energy  of 
natural  tendencies.  The  power  of  the  man 
who  never  despairs  is  marvelous.  In  the  Alps 
there  are  granite  gorges  over  three  hundred 
feet  in  depth.  It  is  the  incessant  wearing  of 
the  water  burdened  with  sand  that  through 
countless  summers  has  worn  these  prodigious 
chasms ;  just  so  the  smallest  actions  repeated 
indefinitely  achieve  in  the  end  results  out  of 
all  proportion  to  their  causes.  It  is  true  that 
unlike  nature,  we  have  not  hundreds  of  cen- 
turies at  our  disposal,  but  neither  do  we  have 
to  hollow  out  granite.  The  only  problem  that 
we  have  is  how  to  make  use  of  bad  habits  in 
such  a  way  as  gradually  to  transform  them 
into  good  ones.  Our  object  is  only  to  confine 

[135] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

our  sensuality  and  laziness  within  reasonable 
bounds,  without  hoping  to  eradicate  them 
entirely. 

Moreover,  our  very  defeats  can  be  turned 
to  good  advantage,  proving  all  the  more  how 
many  resources  we  have  for  our  self-perfec- 
tion! For  example,  the  feeling  of  rancor, 
that  species  of  bitter  disgust,  physical 
fatigue,  and  intellectual  weakness  with  which 
sensual  gratification  leaves  us,  is  an  excellent 
thing  to  keep  constantly  before  our  minds, 
so  as  to  feel  its  unpleasantness  and  to  fix  its 
effects  firmly  in  our  memory. 

A  few  days  of  absolute  laziness  never  fail 
to  awaken  a  feeling  of  intolerable  boredom, 
accompanied  by  a  disgust  with  ourselves 
which  is  most  valuable  if  we  use  it  for  our 
profit.  It  is  a  good  thing  occasionally  to  have 
such  experiences  in  as  distinct  and  conclusive 
a  form  as  possible,  for,  by  comparison,  virtue 
and  work  appear  what  they  are  in  reality, 
sources  of  unqualified  happiness,  and  the  in- 
spiration of  all  the  nobler  and  more  forceful 
feelings:  the  consciousness  of  one's  own 
strength,  pride  in  being  able  to  feel  that  one 
is  a  well-trained  worker,  thoroughly  prepared 

[136] 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE 

to  render  important  service  to  his  fellows  and 
to  his  country.  In  this  struggle  for  freedom, 
there  are  certain  kinds  of  defeat  that  are 
worth  as  much  as  victories. 

But  it  is  time  to  leave  these  general  con- 
siderations. We  have  thus  far  established 
the  fact  that  one  may  unite  into  a  firmly  or- 
ganized system  certain  volitions  and  cer- 
tain series  of  actions ;  and  inversely  that  one 
may  break  the  most  firmly  established  harm- 
ful associations.  The  conclusion  that  these 
facts  bring  us  to  is,  that  the  education  of 
one's  own  will  by  one's  self  is  possible. 

It  now  remains  for  us  to  study  carefully 
the  manner  of  forming  such  associations ;  that 
is  to  say  the  most  efficacious  measures  by 
which  we  can  learn  to  gain  control  over  self. 

The  best  of  these  measures,  and  the  most 
efficacious  are  subjective  in  their  origin  and 
in  their  method  of  approaching  the  subject. 
These  are  the  purely  psychological  processes. 

The  others  are  what  we  shall  call  external 
or  objective  processes.  They  consist  of  the 
intelligent  employment  of  resources  which 
any  one  who  thoroughly  understands  how  to 
make  use  of  the  outside  world  will  find  at  his 
disposal. 

[137] 


BOOK  III 

THE  INTERNAL  MEASURES 

THESE  internal  means  whose  efficacy  is  in- 
fallible in  creating,  strengthening  or  destroy- 
ing certain  emotional  states,  and  which  ought 
necessarily  to  be  used  before  the  employment 
of  the  external  measures  include :  (I)  Medita- 
tive reflection;  (II)  Action. 

We  shall  consider  in  the  appendix  the  sub- 
ject of  bodily  hygiene  in  its  relation  to  the 
special  kind  of  energy  which  we  have  taken 
as  a  subject  of  study;  that  is  to  say,  to  intel- 
lectual work. 


[13*1 


THE  PART  OF  MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION  IN 
THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

WE  say  meditative  reflection  in  order 
sharply  to  distinguish  this  intellectual  opera- 
tion from  others  which  are  similar.  It  goes 
without  saying  that  we  do  not  mean  by  these 
words  revery  and  certainly  not  that  senti- 
mental revery  which  is,  as  we  have  seen,  one 
of  the  enemies  against  which  we  must  ener- 
getically wage  war  in  this  work  of  self-mas- 
tery. While  in  revery  or  day-dreams  the  at- 
tention sleeps,  allowing  a  troop  of  ideas  and 
sentiments  to  dance  lightly  in  and  out  of  con- 
sciousness, permitting  the  whimsical  and  un- 
foreseen combinations  according  to  chance 
associations  of  ideas,  meditative  reflection 
leaves  nothing  to  chance. 

Nevertheless,  it  differs  wholly  from  study 
which  aims  to  acquire  exact  knowledge,  in 
that  its  tendency  is  not  to  stock  the  mind  with 
facts,  but  to  make  it  glow  with  creative 
energy,  or  as  Montaigne  has  said,  "to  forge 
the  mind,  not  furnish  it."1  In  study 

i  Montaigne,  III,  3. 

[141] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

knowledge  is  what  we  pursue;  in  meditative 
reflection  it  is  quite  otherwise.  Our  object  is 
to  inspire  emotions  of  hatred  or  love  in  the 
soul.  In  study  we  are  governed  by  a  desire 
to  find  out  the  truth ;  in  meditative  reflection 
the  truth  is  not  the  thing  that  most  concerns 
us.  We  prefer  a  useful  illusion  to  a  harmful 
truth:  our  entire  resource  is  dominated  ex- 
clusively by  a  motive  of  utility. 

In  order  to  carry  on  this  operation  with 
profit  it  is  necessary  thoroughly  to  under- 
stand psychology.  Even  the  slightest  details 
of  the  science  of  our  nature  must  be  familiar 
to  us. 

We  must  be  acquainted  with  the  causes 
of  our  intellectual  acts  and  volitions.  We 
must  be  able  to  trace  the  relations  which  these 
phenomena  bear  one  to  another,  and  to  ex- 
amine their  reciprocal  influence,  their  associa- 
tions and  their  combinations.  And  we  must 
above  all  know  the  influences  of  our  physical, 
intellectual,  and  moral  environment  on  our 
psychologic  life. 

All  this  requires  a  strong  habit  of  observa- 
tion, of  very  keen  and  subtle  observation,  cul- 
tivated from  the  utilitarian  point  of  view. 

[142] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


Therefore,  we^nust  again  repeat  that  our 
task  consists  in  patiently  seeking  out  such 
motives  as  are  capable  of  awakening  in  us 
outbursts  of  love  or  hatred,  and  of  forming 
certain  strong  combinations  and  associations 
between  certain  ideas  and  other  ideas,  be- 
tween certain  sentiments  and  other  senti- 
ments, and  between  ideas  and  sentiments,  or 
else  in  breaking  those  associations  which  we 
consider  to  be  harmful.  It  consists  in  using 
the  laws  of  attention  and  memory  in  order 
to  efface  from  consciousness  or  to  engrave 
upon  it  whatever  we  consider  wise  or  neces- 
sary to  efface  or  to  engrave  there.  We  must 
"distil  favorable  ideas  and  sentiments  in  our 
soul,"  and  must  then  transform  these  ab- 
stract ideas  into  warm,  living,  affective  feel- 
ings. Meditative  reflection  alone  attains  its 
end  when  it  is  able  to  provoke  powerful  affec- 
tive movements  or  strong  repulsions.  While 
study  leads  to  knowledge,  meditative  reflec- 
tion should  lead  to  action. 

If  we  bear  in  mind  that  action  is  the  whole 
expression  of  man,  that  his  worth  depends 
upon  what  he  does,  and  if  on  the  other  hand 
we  remember  that  our  actions  are  almost 

[143] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

wholly,  if  not  altogether,  provoked  by  the 
affective  states,  we  shall  understand  at  once 
the  great  importance  of  carefully  studying 
the  delicate  mechanism  by  which  the  affective 
states  favorable  to  our  ends  may  be  developed 
and  increased. 

In  chemistry  we  learn  that  if  one  plunges 
a  crystal  into  a  solution  in  which  several  sub- 
stances are  held  in  saturation,  the  molecules 
of  the  same  nature  as  the  crystal,  drawn  to- 
gether from  the  depths  of  the  solution  by 
some  mysterious  attraction,  will  begin  to 
group  themselves  slowly  around  it.  The  crys- 
tal grows  little  by  little,  and  if  it  is  kept  per- 
fectly quiet  for  weeks  or  months,  it  will  form 
those  wonderful  crystals  whose  size  and 
beauty  are  the  joy  and  pride  of  the  labora- 
tory. But  if  the  solution  be  constantly  jarred 
or  disturbed,  the  deposit  will  be  formed  ir- 
regularly, the  crystal  will  be  imperfect  and 
will  remain  small.  The  same  thing  is  true 
in  psychology.  If  one  keeps  any  psycholog- 
ical state  whatever  in  a  foreground  of  con 
sciousness  it  will  insensibly,  by  an  affinity  no 
less  mysterious  than  the  other,  gradually 
attract  to  itself  other  intellectual  and  affec- 

[144] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


tive  states  of  the  same  nature.  If  this  con 
dition  is  kept  up  for  a  long  time,  it  will 
gather  around  it  an  organized  group  of 
forces  of  considerable  power,  and  will  acquire 
a  decisive  and  almost  absolute  control  in 
consciousness,  silencing  every  other  idea  that 
is  opposed  to  it.  If  this  "  crystallization " 
goes  on  slowly  without  disturbance  or  inter- 
ruption it  will  acquire  a  remarkably  strong 
character.  The  group  of  feelings  thus 
formed  will  be  sharply  defined,  powerful  and 
calm.  And,  here  we  may  note  that  there  is 
perhaps  no  idea  which  can  not  if  we  so  wish, 
create  within  us  such  a  group  or  "clan"  of 
associated  ideas.  Keligious  ideas,  maternal 
feeling,  and  even  such  low,  despicable  senti- 
ments as  love  of  money  for  its  own  sake,  may 
rise  up  in  us  and  gain  this  powerful  ascend- 
ency. 

But  few  are  the  men  and  still  fewer  are 
the  young  men  who  possess  the  calmness 
necessary  to  carry  on  this  work  of  slow 
"crystallization."  For  the  student,  life  is 
too  easy  and  too  full  of  variety,  especially  in 
Paris  or  any  other  large  city.  A  host  of 
excitements  of  every  kind  come  from  without 

[145] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

knocking  at  the  door  of  one's  conscious- 
ness. One  idea  follows  another,  and  then 
comes  still  another ;  every  feeling  is  followed 
by  twenty  or  thirty  other  different  feelings 
that  join  in  a  mad  race  after  it.  Add  to  this 
invasion  the  thousands  of  sensations  which 
assail  the  senses;  add  the  interests  of  the 
town,  the  newspapers  and  conversation  and 
you  can  only  compare  the  course  of  such 
ideas  through  consciousness  of  the  tumultu- 
ous rush  of  a  torrent  which  dashes  wildly 
with  a  deafening  roar  against  the  rocks 
which  lie  in  its  channel. 

Those  who  have  stood  aside  for  a  moment 
to  reflect,  and  who  look  beyond  the  present 
moment  and  try  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
future,  are  very  few.  It  is  so  easy  to  throw 
one's  mind  open  to  the  visits  of  these  un- 
related impressions!  It  requires  so  little 
effort!  One  has  only  to  shake  off  care  and 
let  one's  self  go !  As  Channing  has  remarked, 
"the  majority  of  men  know  as  little  of  them- 
selves as  they  do  of  the  countries  in  Central 
Africa. ' ' 1  They  never  voluntarily  turn  their 
attention  from  the  outside  world  to  examine 

i"0n  Personal  Education. " 

[146] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


themselves:  or  rather,  as  they  have  thrown 
their  consciousness  wide  open  to  everything 
outside,  they  have  never  had  the  courage  to 
fathom  this  torrent  of  outside  interests  and 
ascertain  the  actual  rock-bottom  depth  of 
their  own  beings.  The  result  is  that  they 
go  through  life  drawn  hither  and  thither  by 
outside  happenings,  with  scarcely  any  orig- 
inality, or  without  any  more  control  of  their 
direction  than  have  the  leaves  which  are 
whirled  about  by  the  autumn  wind.  They 
draw  no  profit  from  their  experiences;  for 
to  let  one's  interest  wander  in  every  direc- 
tion is  equivalent  to  having  no  real  interest 
in  anything.  Only  those  draw  a  profit  from 
their  experiences  who  plunge  into  the  tor- 
rent of  their  impressions  without  being  car- 
ried away  by  them  and  who  are  sufficiently 
cool  and  self-possessed  to  snatch  the  differ- 
ent circumstances,  ideas  and  feelings  which 
they  choose  to  possess,  as  they  pass  by,  and 
which  they  will  later  ponder  over,  study  and 
assimilate. 

Once  we  are  clearly  conscious  of  the  end 
we  have  in  view,  which  is  to  strengthen  our 
will,  and  particularly  our  will  to  work,  we 

[147] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

must  learn  constantly  to  choose  which  of  all 
the  external  circumstances,  impressions, 
ideas  and  sentiments,  we  consider  sufficiently 
favorable  to  our  work,  to  be  received  and  re- 
tained until  they  have  made  their  impression 
upon  us,  and  to  let  those  that  are  unfavorable 
flow  by  without  paying  any  attention  to  them. 
The  secret  of  success  is  to  profit  by  every- 
thing that  we  can  use  for  our  own  ends. 

The  preceding  studies  clearly  indicate  that 
our  work  must  be  done  along  the  following 
psychological  lines : 

1.  When    a    favorable    sentiment    passes 
through  consciousness  we  must  prevent  it 
from  disappearing  too  quickly;  we  must  fix 
the  attention  on  it  and  make  it  waken  all  the 
ideas  and  sentiments  which  it  can  arouse.    In 
other  words,  cause  it  to  become  as  prolific  as 
possible  and  to  yield  everything  it  has  to 
give. 

2.  When  we  lack  a  certain  sentiment  alto- 
gether, or  when  we  can  not  arouse  it  within 
us,  we  must  find  out  which  idea  or  group  of 
ideas  has  an  affinity  for  it,  and  fix  our  atten- 
tion on  these  ideas  and  keep  them  clearly  in 
consciousness  and  wait  until,  by  the  natural 

[148] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


play  of  association,  the  sentiment  is  called 
forth. 

3.  When  a  sentiment  that  is  unfavorable  to 
our  work  intrudes  itself  into  our  conscious- 
ness, we  must  refuse  to  pay  any  attention 
to  it,  and  endeavor,  not  even  to  think  about 
it,  and  to  let  it,  as  it  were,  perish  of  inani- 
tion. 

4.  When    an    unfavorable    sentiment    has 
sprung   up   and  has   gained   our   attention 
without  our  being  able  to  thrust  it  out,  we 
must  bring  every  unfavorable  criticism  to 
bear  upon  all  the  ideas  upon  which  the  senti- 
ment hangs  and  even  upon  the  object  of  the 
sentiment  as  well. 

5.  We  must  look  sharply  and  closely  at  all 
external    circumstances    of   life,    examining 
even  most  minute  details  in  such  a  way  that 
we  may  intelligently  use  all  the  resources 
and  avoid  all  the  dangers  that  they  present. 

This,  so  to  speak,  is  the  general  program 
which  we  must  try  to  follow. 

But  there  are  several  points  upon  which 
we  must  insist.  When  the  student  has 
grasped  the  idea  of  the  importance  of  not 
"  fleeing  from  himself, "  when  he  perceives 

[149] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

that  distraction  is  just  as  much  a  sign  of 
weakness  as  a  trembling  in  the  limbs,  he  will 
learn  to  find  time  for  concentration  of 
thought,  he  will  cease  to  dissipate  his  mental 
energy  as  his  companions  do.  He  will  not 
read  ten  newspapers  an  afternoon,  nor  waste 
his  time  in  playing  cards,  nor  excitedly  dis- 
cussing trifles  till  his  brain  whirls  with  so 
many  interests.  He  will  make  it  a  point  of 
honor  to  be  master  of  himself  and  he  will 
not  allow  himself  to  be  swept  helplessly 
along  by  the  current  that  carries  the  others 
down  the  stream. 

The  most  efficacious  way  of  attaining  this 
mastery  of  self  is  to  arouse  vigorous  likes  or 
vehement  dislikes  in  the  soul.  He  must  there- 
fore try  to  keep  in  mind  certain  reflections 
which  will  help  him  to  make  himself  love 
work  and  detest  an  easy,  useless,  stupid, 
idle  life.  His  own  experience  will  furnish 
him  plenty  of  such  reflections  at  any  moment. 
He  must  not  let  them  be  hurried  immediate- 
ly out  of  his  mind  by  other  ideas.  He  must 
make  a  determined  effort  to  realize  them.  He 
must  insist  upon  developing  them  as  fully  as 
possible.  Instead  of  thinking  with  words  as 

[150] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


the  majority  of  people  do,  he  must  be  able 
to  see  distinctly  and  in  detail  what  it  is  that 
he  is  reflecting  upon.  To  see  a  thing  in  gen- 
eral, as  one  who  runs,  is  the  method  of  lazy 
minds.  Reflective  minds,  on  the  contrary,  dis- 
til their  thoughts  drop  by  drop  and  "make 
honey "  out  of  the  different  points  of  their 
meditations. 

Each  one  knows,  for  example,  and  says 
that  work  brings  many  kind  of  joys,  among 
which  are  the  following :  First,  there  are  the 
intense  satisfaction  of  self-esteem,  the  very 
joy  of  feeling  one's  own  faculties  grow 
strong  and  keen,  that  of  showering  happiness 
upon  one's  relatives,  and  of  preparing  one's 
self  for  a  happy  old  age.  But  our  student 
must  not  content  himself  with  a  purely  verbal 
enumeration  of  these  joys.  Words  are 
short,  easy  signs  which  take  the  place  in 
thought  of  the  more  complex  things  them- 
selves, which  are  hard  to  express  and  which 
require  a  greater  effort  of  the  imagination 
in  proportion  as  the  details  are  more  numer- 
ous. Thus  lazy  people  think  abstract,  inan- 
imate ideas  in  words,  with  the  result,  that 
they  retain  for  their  spiritual  life 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

amounts  to  nothing.  Moreover,  words  follow 
one  another  so  quickly  and  call  up  such  a 
multitude  of  pictures  that  none  of  them 
achieve  any  distinctness.  As  a  result,  these 
superficial  evocations  merely  fatigue  the 
mind  uselessly.  A  sort  of  stupefaction  is 
produced  by  this  jumble  of  images  which 
comes  to  nothing.  The  remedy  for  this  evil 
is  to  see  things  clearly  and  in  great  detail. 
For  example  do  not  say:  "My  parents  will 
be  pleased !"  but  call  up  a  picture  of  your 
father,  imagine  that  you  are  seeing  the  mani- 
festation of  his  joy  at  each  of  your  successes, 
picture  him  receiving  the  congratulations  of 
his  friends  and  his  family.  Try  to  imagine 
your  mother's  pride,  and  her  pleasure  dur- 
ing the  vacation  when  she  strolls  up  and 
down  on  the  arm  of  the  son  of  whom  she  is 
so  proud;  imagine  yourself  invisibly  present 
at  the  evening  meal  where  they  are  talking 
of  you.  Perhaps  you  will  even  gain  a  stimu- 
lating idea  from  the  charming  vanity  of  the 
little  sister  who  is  so  proud  of  her  big 
brother.  In  other  words  try,  by  picturing  to 
yourself  the  very  details  and  gestures  and 
words  they  will  use,  to  taste  all  the  sweet- 

[152] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


ness  there  is  in  being  loved  by  those  who 
are  willingly  and  gladly  making  great  sacri- 
fices and  depriving  themselves  of  many  com- 
forts in  order  to  make  your  youth  more 
happy,  and  who  are  bearing  the  burden  of 
existence  for  you  so  as  to  leave  your  young 
shoulders  free. 

In  the  same  way  you  must  paint  a  picture 
complete  in  every  trifling  detail  of  old  age 
crowning  a  life  of  work — the  authority  of 
your  sayings  and  writings,  the  respect  that 
everybody  shows  you,  the  great  interest  that 
remains  in  life  even  when  it  is  deprived 
of  many  pleasures.  Then  again  you  must 
taste  to  the  full  and,  as  it  were,  roll  under 
your  tongue,  the  sweets  of  independence 
which  work  brings,  the  feeling  of  force  and 
power  which  it  develops,  the  innumerable 
happinesses  that  it  brings  to  the  energetic, 
and  the  joys  which  it  renders  doubly  dear. 

After  one  has  often  meditated  along  such 
lines  and  others  of  a  like  nature;  when  one 
has  let  thought  become  impregnated,  as  it 
were,  with  their  perfume,  it  is  impossible  not 
to  have  one's  will  stimulated  by  a  strong  but 
quiet  enthusiasm.  But  we  must  lay  stress 

[153] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

upon  this  point  again;  when  an  ardent  emo- 
tion makes  itself  felt  it  must  have  plenty  of 
scope  to  expend  its  energy.  Even,  altho  it 
may  be  a  case  of  a  feeling  which  has  sud- 
denly entered  the  consciousness  from  some 
outside  event,  as,  for  instance,  in  a  celebration 
in  honor  of  some  famous  man,  one  should  im- 
mediately appropriate  the  feeling  of  enthu- 
siasm for  one's  own  and  set  to  work  to  de- 
velop and  strengthen  it. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that,  when  these 
considerations  are  of  such  a  nature  as  to  give 
us  an  aversion  for  the  life  which  we  are  try- 
ing to  avoid,  we  must  in  the  same  way  form 
as  clear  and  detailed  an  idea  of  them  as  pos- 
sible. We  must  dwell  in  great  detail  upon 
the  horrors  of  a  lazy  life.  One  of  the 
ancient's  remarks  that  we  do  not  notice  a 
grain  of  pepper  if  we  swallow  it,  but  if  we 
chew  it,  and  turn  it  over  and  over  with  the 
tongue,  it  will  sting  the  palate  with  its  sharp 
biting  flavor,  and  make  one  sneeze  and  weep. 
One  must  figuratively  do  the  same  thing  con- 
cerning laziness  and  sensuality,  so  that  we 
may  provoke  in  ourselves  a  feeling  of  dis- 
gust and  shame.  The  disgust  should  not  be 

[154] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


applied  to  the  evil  only,  but  to  all  ' '  on  which 
it  depends  and  which  depends  on  it."  One 
must  not  be  like  the  gourmand  to  whom  his 
physicians  forbade  melon,  which,  every  time 
he  ate  it  brought  on  a  serious  relapse.  He 
did  not  eat  it  because  the  doctors  told  him 
he  would  die  if  he  did  so,  but  he  repined  and 
lamented  over  his  deprivation,  and  talked 
about  it  to  every  one;  he  wanted  at  least 
to  smell  melons,  and  he  thought  those  people 
who  could  eat  them  altogether  too  fortunate.1 
In  the  same  way,  one  must  not  only  despise 
a  life  of  idleness,  that  miserable  state  in 
which  the  empty,  unoccupied  mind  preys  upon 
itself  and  in  turn  becomes  the  prey  of  mean, 
contemptible  thoughts,  but  one  must  go  still 
further  and  abstain  from  envying  a  life  of 
idle  ease,  or  even  talking  about  it.  We  must 
shun  companions  who  would  incline  us  to 
a  desultory  do-nothing  existence,  and  such 
pleasures  as  would  lead  to  it.  In  short,  we 
must  not  only  detest  the  disease,  but  the 
melon  which  brings  on  the  attacks. 

As  we  have  already  seen,  the  great  secret 
in  fortifying  any  sentiment  whatsoever  is 

i  Saint  Francois  de  Sales :  ' '  Introduction  a  la  Vie  devote. ' J 
[155] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

continually  to  summon  into  consciousness, 
and  to  keep  there  as  long  as  possible  all  the 
ideas  on  which  it  hangs,  and  to  bring  these 
ideas  into  relief  and  give  them  very  great 
vigor  and  precision.  It  is  of  the  greatest 
value  actually  to  see  a  thing  in  every  char- 
acteristic detail.  Futhermore,  this  method 
enables  the  sentiment  to  develop  by  the  very 
attraction  which  it  exerts  over  similar  senti- 
ments and  by  the  richness  of  the  meditation 
which  they  together  inspire.  In  order  to 
help  this  work  along,  it  is  a  very  good  idea 
to  plan  one's  readings  with  the  definite  pur- 
pose of  cultivating  some  particular  sentiment. 
The  examples  which  we  shall  develop  in  the 
practical  part  of  the  book  will  perhaps  be 
helpful  to  those  who  have  never  been  in  the 
habit  of  reflecting  in  this  way.  The  books 
which  set  forth  the  joys  of  study  and  the  bar- 
renness of  an  idle  life  will  be  of  great  value 
in  this  direction.  The  reading  of  memoirs, 
such  as  those  of  Mill  and  letters  like  those 
of  Darwin,  may  also  be  of  use. 

If  meditation  has  been  carried  on  success- 
fully ;  if  one  has  managed  to  arrange  to  have 
perfect  calm  within  and  without,  and  to  have 

[156] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


that  silence  which  allows  emotional  move- 
ments to  work  until  they  have  stirred  the  very 
depths  of  consciousness,  one  will  surely  ar- 
rive at  the  point  of  forming  a  resolution. 
But  even  if  no  resolution  is  attained,  it  must 
not  be  imagined  that  such  efforts  have  not 
helped  us  to  advance.  As  Mill  has  remarked, 
"His  aspirations  and  powers  when  he  is  in 
this  exceptional  state  become  the  type  with 
which  he  compares  and  by  which  he  estimates 
his  sentiments  and  proceedings  at  other 
times;  and  his  habitual  purposes  assume  a 
character  molded  by  and  assimilated  to  the 
moments  of  lofty  sentiment,  altho  these,  from 
the  psychical  nature  of  a  human  being  can 
only  be  transient. ' ' 1  In  fact,  we  are  very 
much  like  those  instruments  which,  they  say, 
improve  under  the  touch  of  a  great  artist. 
When  we  have  steadfastly  for  a  long  time 
meditated  upon  life  as  a  whole,  it  is  impossi- 
ble for  the  present  moment  not  to  have  a  very 
different  significance  from  what  it  has  when 
we  live  from  day  to  day,  and  when  we  have 
once  lived  through  in  imagination  the  joys 
which  work  gives,  and  suffered  the  bitter- 

1  Mill,  ( l  Subjection  of  Women. ' ' 
[157] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

ness  of  a  life  of  weakness  and  inertia.  There 
is  no  possible  question  but  that  our  thought 
and  activity  have  received  a  vigorous  and 
energetic  impulse.  Unfortunately,  if  we  do 
not  return  frequently  to  our  rough  outline 
plan,  to  complete  the  sketch  and  strengthen 
its  ideas,  the  flood  of  outside  interests  sweep- 
ing afresh  through  consciousness  will  soon 
efface  everything.  We  can  never  reap  a  har- 
vest of  actions  from  good  impulses  unless 
we  repeat  them  frequently. 

It  is  most  important,  therefore,  at  such 
times  not  to  be  readily  influenced  by  a  mass 
of  outside  impressions.  One  must  learn  to 
concentrate  one's  thoughts  and  allow  time  for 
the  wave  of  enthusiasm  for  work  and  the 
feelings  of  repulsion  against  laziness  to  ac- 
complish their  end,  which  is  to  lead  the  mind 
to  make  strong  resolutions. 

An  active,  distinctly  formulated  resolution 
is  in  this  task  of  self -regeneration  an  absolute 
necessity.  One  may,  for  convenience,  classify 
resolutions  into  two  groups,  both  produced 
by  meditation.  There  are  the  broad  general- 
ized resolutions  which  take  in  our  entire  ex- 
istence, and  which  give  a  definite  direction  to 

[158] 


MEDITATIVE  EEFLECTION 


life  toward  one  goal.  These  resolutions  gen- 
erally occur  after  a  long  period  of  hesitation 
between  two  possible  walks  in  life.  More 
often  still  they  are  the  result  of  severe  strug- 
gle, and  mark  the  moment  of  enthusiasm  in 
which  a  strong  mind  definitely  determines  to 
resist  the  suggestions  and  entreaties  of  his 
family,  or  relations,  or  friends  who  are  in- 
terested in  worldly  affairs;  and  not  to  pay 
any  attention  to  those  arguments  which  tend 
to  switch  the  life  of  a  young  man  onto  the 
main  thoroughfare  frequented  by  the  ma- 
jority. 

For  weak  and  sheeplike  natures,  resolu- 
tions are  nothing  more  than  the  shame-faced 
cowardly  peace  of  the  vanquished.  They  rep- 
resent the  triumph  of  mediocrity  in  them,  the 
definite  abandonment  of  every  effort  of  re- 
sistance, the  acceptance  of  the  life  that  every- 
body leads  and  a  still  further  refusal  to  listen 
to  the  entreaties  of  a  higher  ideal  than  that 
which  suits  the  mediocre  quality  of  their 
minds.  Between  these  two  wholly  distinct 
positions  which  lead  on  to  irrevocable  con- 
clusions, one  finds  every  degree  of  weakness 
in  young  people  who  are  trying  to  get  hold 

[159] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

of  themselves,  and  who  can  not  succeed  in 
ignoring  the  call  of  the  higher  life,  but  who, 
from  lack  of  will  are  constantly  sliding  back 
into  the  life  which  they  despise.  They  are  like 
embittered  revolting  slaves  who  can  not  recon- 
cile themselves  to  accept  their  bondage  as 
those  did  who  went  before  them.  They  perceive 
the  beauty  of  a  useful  life,  and  yet  they  can 
not  make  themselves  work;  they  suffer  from 
the  barrenness  of  a  life  of  idleness,  and  yet 
continue  to  do  nothing.  But  such  men  can 
be  freed  from  their  slavery  by  a  knowledge 
of  the  laws  of  psychology  if,  only,  they  do 
not  despair  of  their  release  too  soon,  and  if 
they  will  but  accept  the  fact  that  it  can  not 
be  accomplished  immediately. 

If  such  resolutions  have  any  value  it  lies  in 
the  fact  that  to  a  certain  extent  they  may 
be  regarded  as  a  conclusion.  They  are  the 
expression  in  a  short  precise  formula  of  a 
great  number  of  slight  inclinations,  experi- 
ences, reflections,  readings,  sentiments,  and 
tendencies. 

For  example,  we  must  choose  for  our 
main  line  of  conduct  between  two  great 
hypotheses  which  deal  with  the  general  ob- 

[160] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


jeet  of  the  universe.  We  may  either  hold 
with  the  skeptics,  that  the  world  as  it  now 
exists  is  in  some  way  the  result  of  a  happy 
stroke  of  the  gods  which  will  never  happen 
again,  that  life  and  consciousness  only  ap- 
peared upon  this  globe  by  chance,  or  else  we 
must  accept  the  opposite  theory  and  believe 
that  the  universe  is  undergoing  a  process  of 
evolution  toward  a  higher  and  higher  state 
of  perfection. 

The  skeptical  hypothesis  has  only  this  sin- 
gle argument:  we  can  know  nothing;  we  are 
shut  off  in  this  corner  of  the  universe,  in  this 
exiled  bit  of  space.  It  would  be  the  greatest 
presumption  to  formulate  the  nothing  which 
we  know  into  universal  laws.  The  opposing 
theory  has  the  advantage  of  being  based  on 
facts  and  in  a  certain  way  on  possession.  We 
only  know  our  own  world;  but  it  is  a  well- 
ordered  world  and  has  been  so  for  a  long 
time,  for  the  presence  of  life  presupposes  the 
invariable  stability  of  the  laws  of  nature.  If 
to-day,  for  example,  wheat,  along  with  its 
visible  characteristics,  possest  certain  edible 
qualities  which  to-morrow  were  wholly  dif- 
ferent and  the  next  day  poisonous,  no  life 

[161] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

could  be  organized.  I  perceive,  therefore, 
that  since  the  laws  of  nature  are  constant, 
and  as  life  dates  back  to  the  Silurian  period, 
the  laws  of  nature  must  have  been  what  they 
now  are  for  several  million  years.  This  is 
what  we  refer  to  when  we  say  that  the 
"moral  theory "  has  the  right  of  possession. 
On  the  other  hand,  this  lengthy  evolution, 
which  has  lasted  for  so  many  thousands  of 
years,  has  produced  thinking  beings,  and  the 
thinking  beings  have  produced  moral  be- 
ings. How,  then,  can  we  admit  that  the  march 
of  events  does  not  tend  toward  thought  and 
morality?  Natural  history  and  human  his- 
tory both  teach  that  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence with  all  its  horrors  has  nevertheless 
achieved  the  formation  of  a  higher  form  of 
humanity.  Furthermore,  thought,  like  life, 
implies  order  and  constancy.  Chaos  is  un- 
thinkable. To  think  means  to  organize  and 
to  classify.  Are  not  thought  and  conscious- 
ness, therefore,  the  only  realities  which  we 
know?  To  accept  the  skeptical  theory 
amounts  to  the  same  thing  as  to  proclaim  that 
the  only  known  reality  is  a  chimera.  Such  a 
proclamation  can  mean  nothing  to  us.  It  is  a 

[162] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


mere  verbal  utterance  that  has  nothing  to 
support  it. 

Theoretically,  then,  the  arguments  in  fa- 
vor of  the  moral  theory  are  very  strong. 
Practically,  they  are  decisive.  The  outcome 
of  the  skeptical  theory  is  a  justification  of 
personal  selfishness  and  a  refusal  to  recog- 
nize the  value  of  anything  but  utility.  If 
virtue  deserves  praise,  it  is  only  by  reason  of 
its  superior  usefulness. 

We  may  add  to  these  considerations  the 
fact  that  choice  is  not  optional;  it  is  obliga- 
tory— for  not  to  choose  is,  after  all,  the  same 
as  choosing.  To  accept  a  life  of  idleness  and 
pleasure  is  practically  the  same  thing  as  to 
accept  the  hypothesis  that  human  life  has 
no  value  except  as  an  instrument  of  pleasure. 
Which  theory  in  its  simplicity  and  naivete  is 
in  the  highest  degree  unmetaphysical.  Many 
people  have  much  more  of  the  metaphysician 
in  them  than  they  think:  they  merely  do  not 
know  that  they  have  such  powers.  That  is  all. 

It  is  impossible,  therefore,  not  to  choose 
between  these  two  great  metaphysical  hy- 
potheses. The  choice  may,  perhaps,  not  take 
place  until  after  some  years  of  study  and 
[163] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

reflection.  Then  all  at  once,  without  warn- 
ing, some  particular  argument  will  suddenly 
stand  out  in  sharper  relief  than  the  rest,  and 
the  grandeur  and  the  beauty  of  the  moral 
theory  will  suddenly  dawn  upon  the  soul,  and 
the  resolution  will  be  made.  Such  a  resolu- 
tion can  only  come  when  one  accepts  the 
moral  theory,  because  it  alone  furnishes  a 
reason  for  our  existence,  and  explains  our 
efforts  to  do  right,  and  our  struggles  against 
injustice  and  immorality.  Once  the  choice  is 
made  skeptical  arguments  can  not  for  a  mo- 
ment enter  the  mind;  for  one  thrusts  them 
out  with  disdain  because  there  is  a  higher  aim 
than  mere  pleasure  for  the  philosopher; 
namely,  the  desire  to  act  and  act  honestly. 
Moral  faith  henceforward  becomes  a  jealous- 
ly guarded  principle  of  life  and  gives  fresh- 
ness and  sublimity  to  existence  which  is 
wholly  unknown  to  the  dilettante,  who  can 
not  call  forth  strong  emotions  and  transform 
his  thoughts  into  virile  activity. 

Life  takes  a  definite  direction  after  this 
solemn  resolution  has  been  made.  Our  ac- 
tions cease  to  be  upset  or  diverted  by  every 
trifling  outside  happening.  We  are  no  longer 

[164] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


merely  obedient  tools  in  the  hands  of  men 
more  energetic  than  ourselves.  Even  when 
we  are  buffeted  by  storms,  we  know  how  to 
keep  upon  our  way.  We  are  ripe  for  nobler 
endeavors.  Such  a  resolution  is  like  the  die 
to  the  coin.  Long  use  may  efface  some  of 
the  traits,  but  one  can  not  help  recognizing 
the  strong  lines  of  the  design  stamped  upon 
the  metal. 

A  great  moral  resolution  of  this  nature 
must  be  accompanied  by  still  another  resolu- 
tion in  one's  heart.  Like  Hercules,  tormented 
between  vice  and  virtue,  one  must  resolutely 
make  up  one's  mind  to  accept  a  life  of  work 
and  reject  a  life  of  indolence. 

Enough  has  been  said  concerning  these 
general  resolutions  which  one  seldom  makes 
more  than  once  in  a  lifetime.  These  solemn 
resolutions  are  the  acceptation  of  an  ideal 
and  the  affirmation  of  some  great  truth  which 
has  been  borne  in  upon  us. 

But  we  do  not  attain  the  goal  at  a  single 
leap;  we  can  attain  it  only  by  willing  the 
means  to  do  so.  Thoughtful  inquiry  and  study 
will  show  us  the  best  means  to  adopt.  Nat- 
urally we  must  will  to  learn  how  to  attain  the 

[165] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

end,  for  all  volition  implies  resolution.  But 
we  will  find  that  these  particular  resolutions 
become  singularly  easy  when  the  great  reso- 
lution has  been  carefully  and  thoughtfully 
taken.  They  flow  from  it  as  corollaries  flow 
from  a  theorem.  Supposing  we  have  taken 
a  resolution  which  involves  a  translation  of 
Aristotle,  it  is  always  possible  for  us  to  con- 
centrate our  thoughts  particularly  on  those 
things  which  will  incline  us  toward  such  a 
task;  if  the  text  in  itself  is  nonsense  it  can 
not  be  denied  that  the  effort  of  reading  into 
a  page  a  meaning  which  it  never  possest  is 
a  vigorous  mental  gymnastic.  The  mental 
astuteness  developed  by  the  hand-to-hand 
struggle  with  every  word  and  sentence,  and 
by  the  effort  to  discover  a  logical  sequence, 
will  make  itself  felt,  if  after  a  week  of  such 
work  one's  sharpened  wits  are  applied  to  a 
page  of  Descartes'  Meditations  or  a  chapter 
of  Stuart  Mill. 

The  ease  with  which  one  can  then  grasp 
such  studies  will  make  one  feel  like  those 
Roman  soldiers  who  were  required  to  per- 
form their  drill  bearing  a  burden  twice  as 
great  as  that  required  in  time  of  war.  If  the 

[166] 


MEDITATIVE  EEFLECTION 


main  underlying  resolution  is  always  present, 
it  will  nearly  always  be  found  when  it  comes 
to  any  particular  resolution,  that  simple,  fa- 
miliar, definite  considerations  are  sufficient 
to  arouse  the  will  to  action. 

From  this  discussion  we  can  see  how  much 
greater  success  lecturers  and  professors 
might  have  in  teaching,  if  at  the  begin- 
ning of  each  new  line  of  work  they  would  give 
a  little  exposition  and  set  forth  in  a  persua- 
sive way  the  general  and  particular  advan- 
tages that  the  scholars  would  derive  from 
these  studies.  I  can  say  for  myself  that  I 
studied  Latin  for  years  with  the  greatest 
aversion  because  no  one  had  pointed  out  its 
usefulness  to  me:  on  the  other  hand,  I  have 
cured  many  pupils  of  this  dislike  which  they 
already  had  by  making  them  read  and  then 
by  discussing  with  them  the  charming  exposi- 
tion of  Mr.  Fouillee  on  the  importance  of 
classical  studies. 

An  objection  of  some  kind  will  no  doubt 
still  persist  in  the  minds  of  some  of  our 
readers.  They  have  frequently  heard  it  said 
that  prolonged  meditation  and  practical 
activity  never  go  hand  in  hand,  and  that 

[167] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

thinkers  are  as  a  rule  badly  equipped  for 
practical  life,  and  fail  to  appreciate  the 
value  that  prolonged  meditative  reflection  has 
upon  action.  This  is  because  they  confuse 
men  who  are  merely  busy  with  men  of  action 
who  are  truly  worthy  of  the  name.  The  rest- 
lessly busy  man  is  quite  the  opposite  of  the 
man  of  action.  He  needs  to  be  always  bus- 
tling about:  his  activity  expresses  itself  by 
actions  which  frequently  have  no  relation  to 
each  other  from  day  to  day.  But  as  success 
in  life,  in  politics,  etc.,  is  only  obtained  by 
the  steady  continuation  of  efforts  in  the  same 
direction,  this  fluttering,  buzzing  restlessness, 
tho  it  makes  a  great  deal  of  noise,  accom- 
plishes little  or  nothing  in  the  way  of  good 
honest  work.  All  well-directed  activity  by 
any  man  who  is  sure  of  himself  implies  pro- 
found meditation.  Great  men  of  action  like 
Henry  IV  and  Napoleon  spent  hours  in  re- 
flection either  alone  or  with  their  ministers 
before  deciding  to  adopt  a  definite  course. — 
(Sully).  He  who  does  not  meditate,  who  does 
not  always  keep  in  mind  the  main  object  to 
be  pursued,  who  does  not  carefully  think  out 
the  best  way  to  take  each  step  in  his  progress, 

[168] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


must  necessarily  become  the  sport  of  circum- 
stances. Any  unforeseen  emergency  will  dis- 
turb him,  and  as  these  arise  he  constantly 
strikes  out  blindly  to  repel  them,  with  the 
result  that  he  finally  loses  his  perspective 
altogether.  Action,  therefore,  must  accom- 
pany reflective  meditation :  otherwise  the  lat- 
ter will  have  no  value,  altho  it  is  the  neces- 
sary condition  of  all  active  productive  life. 

We  say  a  necessary  condition,  because 
none  of  us  know  ourselves  as  well  as  we 
think  we  do.  There  is  good  reason  for  dis- 
couragement when  it  is  remembered  that 
there  is  hardly  one  man  in  a  thousand  who 
has  real  personality.  Nearly  all  men  in  their 
general  conduct,  as  well  as  in  their  particular 
actions,  are  like  marionettes  drawn  together 
by  a  combination  of  forces  which  are  infi- 
nitely more  powerful  than  their  own.  They 
no  more  live  an  individual  life  than  does  a 
piece  of  wood  which  is  tossed  into  the  tor- 
rent, and  which  is  carried  away  without  know- 
ing either  how  or  why.  To  use  a  well-known 
illustration,  they  are  like  weather-cocks, 
twirled  hither  and  thither,  conscious  of  their 
movements  but  not  conscious  of  the  wind  that 

[169] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

moves  them.  Education,  the  powerful  sug- 
gestions of  language,  the  extremely  strong 
pressure  which  public  opinion  brings  to  bear 
as  well  as  the  opinion  of  one's  comrades,  the 
sententious  maxims  of  the  worldly  and  finally 
our  own  natural  tendencies,  guide  the  major- 
ity of  us,  and  those  minds  are  rare  indeed, 
which,  in  spite  of  the  unsuspected  currents 
that  are  always  carrying  them  out  of  their 
course,  nevertheless  resolutely  pursue  their 
onward  progress  toward  the  port  which  they 
have  chosen  in  advance,  and  who  are  wise 
enough  to  stop  frequently  to  take  their  bear- 
ings and  correct  their  course. 

Even  for  those  who  are  brave  enough  to 
undertake  their  own  regeneration,  the  time 
which  they  have  at  their  command  is  really 
very  short !  Until,  perhaps,  the  age  of  twenty- 
seven  one  goes  along  without  thinking  very 
much  about  one's  destiny,  and  by  the  time  one 
begins  to  desire  to  have  some  plan  of  life,  one 
finds  one's  self  involved  in  the  machinery 
which  carries  one  along  with  it.  Sleep  alone 
takes  a  third  of  existence;  and  regular  du- 
ties, such  as  dressing,  eating,  and  digestion, 
the  demands  of  society,  the  discharge  of 

[1701 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


one's  business  or  profession,  as  well  as  mis- 
fortunes and  illness  leave  very  little  time  for 
the  higher  life!  One  goes  on  and  on;  one 
day  follows  another,  and  one  is  old  before 
one  begins  to  see  clearly  the  reason  for  exist- 
ence. That  wonderful  power,  the  Catholic 
Church,  which  knows  where  she  is  leading  her 
people  and  which,  by  her  confessional  and 
her  methods  of  directing  souls  along  the  lines 
of  the  most  profound  truths  of  practical 
psychology,  has  built  a  broad  road  for  this 
great  troop  of  marionettes.  She  upholds  the 
feeble  who  walk  unsteadily,  and  pushes  along 
in  the  same  general  direction  this  multitude 
which  without  her  would  degenerate  or  would 
remain,  from  the  moral  point  of  view,  on  the 
same  level  as  animals. 

It  is  indeed  incredible  how  readily  almost 
every  one  is  influenced  by  outside  suggestion. 
First  of  all  comes  family  education,  but  fam- 
ilies of  philosophers  are  rare!  Bare  in  con- 
sequence are  the  children  who  receive  a  ra- 
tional education.  Even  those  who  are  fa- 
vored with  such  an  education  live  in  an 
atmosphere  of  stupidity.  The  people  around 
him,  the  servants  and  friends  who  are 
[171] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

wholly  influenced  by  public  opinion,  stuff  the 
child's  mind  with  the  formulas  current  in 
society.  Even  if  the  family  could  raise  bar- 
riers high  enough  to  keep  out  these  preju- 
dices, the  child  would  have  some  teachers 
with  very  little  power  of  reflection,  and  com- 
panions who  shared  the  spirit  of  the  world. 
Furthermore,  living  among  his  fellows,  even 
the  well-brought-up  child  will  speak  the  lan- 
guage of  his  companions ;  but  language  has 
its  origin  in  the  people,  the  multitude  has 
created  it  in  its  own  image.  It  has  poured 
into  it  its  mediocrity,  its  hatred  for  every- 
thing that  is  superior,  its  stupid  childish 
judgment  which  never  goes  beyond  experi- 
ences. Language  also  contains  a  vast  num- 
ber of  associated  ideas  eulogizing  wealth 
and  power,  and  feats  of  war,  and  cast- 
ing contempt  on  goodness  and  disinterest- 
edness, and  on  a  simple  life  and  intellec- 
tual work.  We  are  all  remarkably  submis- 
sive to  these  pernicious  suggestions.  Do  you 
want  a  proof  of  it  in  yourself?  Let  some  one 
say  the  word  "grandeur,"  and  it  is  a  hun- 
dred to  one  that  the  word  will  call  up  ideas 
of  sovereignty  and  pomp  before  it  makes  you 

[172] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


think  of  moral  grandeur.  Every  one  will 
think  of  Caesar  and  none  of  Epictetus.  Is 
good  fortune  the  topic?  Then  ideas  of  work 
and  power  and  applause  will  spring  into  the 
mind !  Test,  as  I  have  done,  a  dozen  charac- 
teristic words  which  express  the  ideas  that 
make  life  worth  living  to  a  thinker;  make  it 
clearly  understood  that  you  are  interested, 
from  a  psychological  point  of  view,  in  finding 
out  what  images  are  created  in  the  mind  by 
these  words,  so  that  there  will  he  no  doubt 
concerning  the  bearing  of  the  exercise  and 
you  will  be  edified.  You  will  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  language  is  the  most  powerful 
instrument  of  suggestion  which  stupid,  vulgar 
ignorance  can  wield  to  check  the  progress  of 
noble  minds. 

Naturally  every  comrade  of  our  student 
holds  a  bunch  of  bonds  on  this  bank  of  uni- 
versal stupidity,  which  he  will  convert  for 
himself  into  ready  money  as  fast  as  he  has 
need  of  them  for  his  daily  expenses.  Prov- 
erbs and  maxims  contain  in  a  pithy  and  witty 
form  the  sage  sayings  of  nations;  that  is  to 
say,  the  observations  of  people  who  did  not 
know  even  the  elementary  rules  of  careful  ob- 

[173] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

servation,  and  who  had  not  the  slightest  idea 
of  what  constitutes  a  convincing  observation. 
These  proverbs,  repeated  incessantly,  finally 
acquire  an  authority  which  it  is  bad  form  to 
dispute.  If  one  is  speaking  of  a  young  man 
who  is  stupidly  sacrificing  pleasures  which 
are  truly  worthy  of  the  name  to  the  vanity 
of  making  the  rounds  of  the  restaurants  with 
a  capricious  woman  of  the  town,  some  im- 
portant personage  who  wishes  to  appear 
broad  in  his  ideas  will  say:  "Well,  youth 
must  have  its  fling. ' '  Sometimes  he  will  even 
encourage  the  young  man  to  continue  by  ex- 
pressing his  deep  regrets  that  the  time  for 
such  follies  is  passed  by  for  him. 

Well!  Some  one  must  have  the  courage 
to  say  it.  These  old  saws  and  long-estab- 
lished sayings  do  more  harm  to  a  young  man 
than  can  possibly  be  exprest,  for  they  keep 
him  from  reflecting  and  from  seeing  the 
truth.  And  as  in  all  European  countries,  as 
well  as  in  America,  when  a  boy  leaves  school 
or  college  he  is  thrown  into  the  life  of  some 
large  town  without  any  real  supervision  or 
moral  guidance,  and  as  he  has  never  been 
warned  against  this  fatal  atmosphere  of 

[174] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


foolish  prejudice  which  every  student  must 
breathe,  his  inconsequential  and  disastrous 
line  of  conduct  is  explained.  These  bands  of 
rollicking  students  are  the  living  embodiment 
of  all  these  uncriticized,  undigested  ideas 
with  which  the  minds  of  "men  of  education " 
are  encumbered. 

The  power  of  suggestion  is  so  strong  that 
those  who  manage  to  free  themselves  from 
it  in  advanced  life  are  to  be  envied.  The 
weakness  of  the  will  aided  and  abetted  by 
the  force  of  the  lower  tendencies  strengthens 
the  temptation  for  men  to  use  these  proverbs 
as  a  legitimate  excuse  for  their  spoiled 
youth  and  their  age  ripened  years  which  are 
but  a  continuation  of  that  youth.  The  errors 
accumulated  in  the  course  of  education, 
example,  language,  and  environment,  and 
favored  by  one's  inclination  befog  the 
mind  and  distort  one's  view  of  things.  There 
is  but  one  way  of  dispelling  this  fog,  and  that 
is  frequently  to  withdraw  from  the  crowd  in 
meditative  solitude,  to  dwell  upon  the  sug- 
gestions of  some  lofty  mind  instead  of  on 
the  mediocre  suggestions  of  one's  surround- 
ings, letting  the  calm  of  such  beneficent  in- 

[175] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

fluence  penetrate  to  the  very  depth  of  the 
soul.  The  solitude  that  is  favorable  to  such 
penetration  is  of  easy  attainment  to  the 
student.  Never  again  will  he  find  such  com- 
plete liberty,  and  it  is  truly  sad  that  at  the 
very  period  when  one  is  entirely  independent 
one  is  so  little  master  of  one's  self. 

There  is  nothing  finer  than  that  by  thus 
retreating  within  ourselves,  we  can  either  by 
ourselves  or  by  calling  great  thoughts  to  our 
aid,  gradually  dispel  our  illusions.  Instead 
of  judging  things  according  to  the  standard 
which  others  have  set  up  we  must  accustom 
ourselves  to  look  at  them  by  themselves 
alone ;  we  must,  above  all,  break  the  habit  of 
judging  our  pleasures  and  impressions  by 
public  opinion.  We  shall  see  how  the  vulgar 
who  are  content  with  low  pleasures  by  rea- 
son of  their  incapacity  to  enjoy  those  of  a 
higher  nature  not  only  glorify  their  deceptive 
illusions  and  bestow  the  most  eulogistic 
words  of  the  language  upon  them,  but  how 
they  also  point  the  finger  of  scorn  and  dis- 
dain at  all  higher  pleasures,  and  how  they 
stigmatize  everything  that  is  worthy  of  es- 
teem. A  philosopher  who  reflects  and  who 

[176] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


does  not  follow  the  stream  is  a  dreamer,  a 
little  queer  or  crazy.  A  man  who  meditates 
is  a  seeker  after  ethereal  abstractions  who 
is  apt  to  stumble  into  a  ditch  while  observ- 
ing the  stars.  All  the  epithets  of  praise  and 
all  the  tripping  dactyls  are  for  vice,  while 
the  ponderous  spondees  are  for  virtue.  The 
one  is  as  light  and  graceful  as  the  other  is 
austere,  rigid,  and  pedantic.  Moliere  himself 
with  all  his  genius  was  not  able  to  make  us 
laugh  at  vice.  Celimene,  the  heartless  co- 
quette who  has  not  a  trace  of  kindness  or 
sincerity  in  her  nature,  is  not  pictured  as 
ridiculous.  It  is  the  honest  man  whose  every 
word  and  gesture  indicates  the  greatest  pro- 
priety and  uprightness ;  it  is  Alceste,  who  is 
chosen  to  be  laughed  at,  and  it  is  with  the 
greatest  astonishment  that  pupils  of  both 
sexes  learn  that  Alceste  is  really  a  very  fine 
young  man,  for  the  word  "virtue"  carries 
along  with  it  so  many  suggestions  that  are 
included  in  it  in  popular  parlance,  that  it  has 
come  to  stand  for  everything  that  is  common 
and  ordinary.  Max  Miiller  computed  the 
number  of  words  used  by  a  cultivated  Eng- 
lishman at  three  or  four  thousand,  and  the 

[177] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

words  employed  by  the  great  masters  of  lit- 
erature at  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand.  It 
is  in  the  list  of  words  which  are  only  rarely 
used  in  conversation  and  which  form  the  dif- 
ference between  the  equipment  of  a  man  of 
the  world  and  that  of  a  thinker,  that  one  will 
find  those  which  express  ideas  which  are 
great  and  lofty  and  sublime.  Unfortunately 
there  are  summits  in  the  language  which  have 
been  raised  by  thought  just  as  there  are  peaks 
in  the  mountains,  and  the  vulgar  may  make 
short  excursions  to  those  summits  altho  they 
dwell  in  the  plains.  This  is  why  the  natural 
tendency  of  ideas  is  away  from  the  sublime. 
"From  our  childhood  we  have  heard  certain 
things  spoken  of  as  desirable  and  others  as 
ills.  Those  who  have  talked  with  us  have 
imprest  the  idea  of  their  point  of  view  upon 
us,  and  we  are  accustomed  to  regard  ideas  in 
the  same  way  as  they  do  and  to  connect  the 
same  emotions  and  the  same  passions  with 
them. "  *  "  One  no  longer  judges  them  except 
at  the  value  which  they  have  in  the  opinion 
of  other  men. ' ' 

It  is  in  attentive  reflection  that  the  student 

i  Nicole,  ' '  Danger  des  entretiens. ' ' 
[178] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


will  find  the  remedy  and  will  learn  how  to 
see  things  for  himself.  Let  him  throw  him- 
self into  life  as  all  the  others  do;  he  must 
do  it,  otherwise  he  would  have  no  experience 
and  would  not  know  how  to  avoid  danger. 
But  after  he  has  experienced  the  life  of  the 
community,  he  should  withdraw  into  himself 
and  carefully  analyze  his  impressions :  he  will 
henceforward  cease  to  be  deceived  concern- 
ing the  value  and  grandeur  of  certain  ideas, 
and  above  all  on  the  relations  of  these  things 
to  himself.  He  will  eliminate  all  that  is  of 
foreign  importation.  He  will  very  soon  have 
drawn  his  own  conclusions  concerning  the  life 
of  the  average  student  and  will  sum  it  up  as 
follows :  viz.,  that  it  sacrifices  as  a  rule  last- 
ing pleasures  and  calm  and  lofty  joys  to 
vanity;  the  vanity  of  appearing  free,  of  fill- 
ing the  barrooms  with  a  noisy  racket,  of 
drinking  like  a  sot,  of  coming  home  at  two 
o  'clock  in  the  morning  and  making  night  hid- 
eous and  of  making  himself  notorious  in  the 
company  of  persons  whom  he  will  see  to-mor- 
row with  another  set  of  fellows  who  are  no 
less  drunk  than  he. 

After   the   repression   of  boarding-school 

[179] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

and  the  anxious  oversight  of  parents,  it  is 
clear  that  such  conduct  strikingly  manifests 
an  outburst  of  independence.  But  what  good 
is  it  to  show  it?  The  real  feeling  of  inde- 
pendence itself  is  the  great  joy.  The  rest  is 
only  vanity.  Such  a  riotous  life  shows  a 
wholly  false  appreciation  of  what  real  happi- 
ness is.  As  for  one's  vanity  it  is  so  easy 
to  satisfy  it  in  an  intelligent  manner!  How 
far  the  joy  of  being  appreciated  by  one's  pro- 
fessors, of  passing  excellent  examinations,  of 
gratifying  the  desires  of  one's  parents  and 
of  being  considered  a  great  man  in  one 's  own 
little  town,  surpasses  the  empty  satisfaction 
of  the  student  who  gives  himself  up  to  pleas- 
ure, a  satisfaction  within  reach  of  the  drunken 
street  porter  or  most  insignificant  clerk  on 
pay-day ! 

Let  the  student  therefore  withdraw  into  him- 
self and  critically  examine  these  pleasures, 
which  are  after  all  nothing  but  weariness,  ex- 
haustion and  mortification,  disguised  by  an 
illusion  of  vanity.  Let  him  dissect  one  by  one 
the  prejudices  and  sophisms  that  swarm 
around  intellectual  work.  Let  him  open  his 
eyes  wide  and  examine  closely  and  in  minute 

[180] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


detail  any  one  of  his  days  and  the  principles 
which  regulate  it.  Let  him  strengthen  fur- 
ther these  reflections  by  reading  well-chosen 
books.  Let  him  push  aside  everything  that 
does  not  in  some  way  contribute  strength  to 
his  will.  He  will  then  discover  a  new  world. 
He  will  no  longer  be  condemned  like  the  pris- 
oners chained  in  Plato 's  cavern  to  see  only  the 
shadow  of  things.  He  will  see  face  to  face 
the  pure  light  of  truth.  He  will  thus  create 
for  himself  an  atmosphere  of  sound,  manly 
impressions;  he  will  be  a  personality,  an  in- 
telligence possest  of  self-mastery.  He  will 
not  be  torn  in  opposite  directions  by  impulses 
coming  from  any  course  whatever,  whether 
from  blind  tendencies  or  from  the  power  of 
language,  or  from  his  comrades  or  from  the 
world  at  large,  or  from  his  environment. 

It  is  also  true  that  one  may  take  refuge  in 
the  most  profound  solitude  and  live  a  life 
of  thought  even  tho  surrounded  by  the  world. 
The  solitude  which  we  mean  consists  in  re- 
fusing admittance  to  narrow-minded  preoccu- 
pations and  of  constraining  one's  self  to  wel- 
come only  such  ideas  and  considerations  as 
are  capable  of  arousing  in  the  soul  the  feel- 

[181] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

ings  which  we  wish  to  experience.  This  work 
does  not  require  that  we  should  make  a  re- 
treat to  the  "Grande-Chartreuse";  and  it  is, 
moreover,  perfectly  compatible  with  one's 
daily  occupations.  It  is  enough  if  we  know 
how  to  seize  the  opportunity  to  retire  into 
our  ' '  inner  sanctuary, ' '  either  while  taking  a 
walk  or  while  in  one's  own  home,  and  for  a 
greater  or  less  time  each  day  or  each  week 
to  bring  the  attention  to  bear  upon  the  mo- 
tives which  are  able  to  arouse  feelings  of  re- 
pulsion or  love. 

Not  only  will  our  young  man  escape  from 
the  bondage  of  vulgar  suggestions  and  errors 
provoked  by  passion;  not  only  will  his  con- 
duct be  more  nobly  molded  on  truth,  but  he 
will  escape  great  dangers.  To  be  master  of 
one's  self  implies,  as  a  matter  of  course,  re- 
peated conquests  by  self  over  the  thousand 
suggestions  of  the  outside  world,  but  it  still 
further  and  more  especially  implies  the  dom- 
ination of  the  intelligence  over  the  blind 
forces  of  sensibility.  If  one  watches  closely 
the  conduct  of  children  and  of  most  women, 
as  well  as  the  great  majority  of  men,  one  is 
struck  by  their  tendency  to  act  according  to 

[182] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


their  first  impulses,  and  by  their  very  evident 
inability  to  adapt  their  conduct  to  any  end, 
which  is  ever  so  little  removed  from  their 
immediate  vision.  One  emotion  or  another 
is  always  uppermost  in  their  minds  and 
drives  them  to  accomplish  such  or  such  an  act. 
A  wave  of  vanity  follows  a  wave  of  anger,  or 
a  burst  of  affection,  etc. ;  and,  after  counting 
out  habitual  or  obligatory  actions,  the  one 
thing  that  remains,  especially  in  society,  is 
the  imperative  desire  to  create  a  good  impres- 
sion upon  people  whose  criterion  is,  as  a  rule 
anything  but  exacting.  And  as  nearly  every 
one  possesses  the  naive  conceit  which  con- 
siders himself  as  a  standard  of  the  best,  the 
public  does  not  look  upon  any  one  as  a  man 
of  action  unless  he  is  one  of  those  busy  hus- 
tling people  who  can  never  stay  still  in  one 
place.  Any  one  who  chooses  to  wrap  him- 
self in  solitude  to  meditate  and  think  incurs 
blame.  Nevertheless,  all  the  great  and  last- 
ing work  of  the  world  has  been  brought  forth 
by  meditative  and  thinking  men.  The  fruit- 
ful work  of  humanity  has  been  accomplished 
tranquilly,  without  haste  and  without  fuss,  by 
these  very  dreamers  of  whom  we  have  been 

[183] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

speaking  and  who  are  accused  of  * 'falling 
into  ditches  while  observing  the  stars."  The 
others,  the  noisy  blustering  fellows,  the  polit- 
ical men  and  conquerors,  those  " hustlers'' 
who  have  burdened  history  with  their  foolish- 
ness have  only,  looking  at  them  through  the 
perspective  of  time,  played  a  mediocre  role 
in  the  march  of  humanity.  When  history,  such 
as  we  now  understand  it,  and  which  is  scarce- 
ly more  than  a  collection  of  anecdotes  des- 
tined to  satisfy  the  rather  foolish  curiosity  of 
the  lettered  public,  will  have  given  place  to 
history  written  by  thinking  men  and  for 
thinking  men,  one  will  be  astonished  to  see 
how  little  the  deeds  of  the  "  great  agitators " 
have  altered  the  main  current  of  civilization. 
The  true  heroes  of  history,  who  are  the  great 
leaders  in  the  sciences,  arts,  literature,  phil- 
osophy and  industry,  will  be  placed  where 
they  deserve  to  be,  in  the  first  ranks.  A  poor 
philosopher  like  Ampere  who  was  never  able 
to  make  money,  and  whose  vagaries  made  his 
concierge  laugh  until  she  wept,  has  done 
more  by  his  discoveries  to  revolutionize  so- 
ciety, and  even  modern  war,  than  a  Bismarck 
and  a  Moltke  combined.  Pasteur  and  Du- 

[184] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


claux  have  accomplished  more  to  forward  the 
cultivation  of  earth  than  fifty  ministers  of 
agriculture  put  together. 

How  can  you  expect  the  student  to  with- 
stand the  general  opinion  which  makes  so 
much  of  this  mere  restlessness  which  it  con- 
fuses with  productive  activity?  How  can  you 
expect  him  not  to  consider  it  necessary  to 
lend  himself  at  least  to  the  illusion  of  life,  and 
rush  around  and  make  a  commotion  and  to 
do  rash  deeds  since  that  is  life  according  to 
the  accepted  formula !  Many  of  our  troubles 
come  from  this  fatal  need,  a  feeling  that  we 
must  do  something  at  once.  A  need  that  is 
stimulated  hy  the  laudatory  tone  of  public 
opinion.  This  restless  energy  in  itself  offers 
no  great  problem  in  solitude,  except  to  know 
how  to  spend  it.  But  through  the  tendency 
to  act  without  consideration,  the  student  is 
at  the  mercy  of  external  circumstances.  The 
arrival  of  a  friend  during  a  study-hour,  a 
public  reunion,  a  celebration,  any  event  what- 
soever leads  him  away.  For,  as  it  has  been 
aptly  said,  the  unforeseen  "  unhorses  "  feeble 
wills.  The  only  safeguard  against  such  inter- 
ruption is  offered  by  meditative  reflection; 

[185] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

the  ability  to  foresee  events  which  are  likely 
to  happen  may  even  make  up  for  a  lack  of 
energy.  The  student  can  eliminate  the  unex- 
pected from  his  life.  He  can  easily  forestall 
the  evenings  of  dissipation  in  which  he  will 
probably  be  invited  to  join.  He  knows,  for 
example,  that  a  certain  comrade  will  be  apt 
to  try  to  take  him  off  either  to  the  restau- 
rants or  for  a  walk;  he  can  readily  prepare 
his  form  of  refusal  in  advance;  or  if  a  re- 
fusal pure  and  simple  seems  unadvisable  to 
him,  he  can  prepare  an  excuse  and  cut  his 
friend's  insistence  short.1  But,  still  again,  if 
he  has  not  firmly  made  up  his  mind  before- 
hand that  he  will  go  to  his  room  and  do  a 
certain  definite  piece  of  work,  and  if  he  has 

i  We  do  not  approve  at  all  of  Kant 's  ultra  point  of  view 
on  this  question.  What!  I  may  be  permitted  to  kill  a  man 
if  I  must  do  so  in  self-defense,  but  I  am  not  to  be  allowed 
even  an  evasion  in  a  similar  case  of  legitimate  self-defense 
against  an  inconsiderate  acquaintance?  It  is  more  than  a 
right — it  is  a  duty  to  defend  one 's  work  and  thought  against 
such  people.  The  polite  excuse  is  often  the  only  weapon  that 
one  can  use  to  protect  one's  self  without  seriously  offending 
others.  The  odious  and  unpardonable  excuse  is  the  excuse 
which  hurts.  A  truth  uttered  with  the  intention  of  hurting 
is  quite  as  bad  as  a  quibble.  It  is  the  malicious  intention 
which  makes  the  deed  blameworthy. 

[186] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


not  prepared  the  formula  which  will  cut 
short  all  possible  attempts  to  entice  him  to 
do  nothing,  he  stands  a  very  great  chance  of 
losing  his  day.  To  foresee,  from  the  psycho- 
logical point  of  view,  is  to  conjure  up  in  im- 
agination events  which  may  take  place.  If 
this  prevision  is  vivid  and  distinct,  it  puts 
the  mind  in  a  state  of  semi-tension  so  that 
the  reply  or  action  takes  place  very  quickly, 
so  quickly  that  between  the  thought  of  the 
act,  or  the  reply,  and  their  objective  realiza- 
tion, there  is  not  sufficient  time  for  the  con- 
sideration of  any  outside  event  or  the  entrea- 
ties of  one's  comrades  to  come  in  between. 
Events  which  are  hostile  to  our  decision  only 
give  rise  to  the  automatic  performance  of 
actions  that  conform  to  the  decision. 

It  is  only  the  weak  who  find  life  full  of  un- 
expected problems.  To  any  one  who  has  no 
fixt  purpose,  or  who  altho  his  purpose  be  fixt 
does  not  know  how  to  keep  his  attention  on 
it  and  who  is  always  letting  himself  be  led 
away  from  it,  life  moves  in  a  haphazard  fash- 
ion. On  the  other  hand,  to  him  who  frequent- 
ly stops  to  get  his  bearings  and  to  set  his 
course  life  has  nothing  that  is  unforeseen. 

[187] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

But  this  foresight  implies  that  we  need  to 
have  a  very  clear  idea  of  what  we  ourselves 
actually  are,  and  of  our  natural  faults,  and 
the  causes  which  generally  make  us  waste 
time.  It  implies  that  we  must  lay  out  our 
line  of  conduct  in  reference  to  our  failings, 
and  must,  as  it  were,  never  lose  sight  of  our- 
selves. 

"We  can  thus  contrive  to  diminish  day  by 
day  the  element  of  risk  in  our  existence.  Not 
only  shall  we  know  without  any  question 
what  we  are  going  to  do  and  say  under  some 
particular  circumstance  as,  for  instance, 
breaking  with  a  certain  companion,  changing 
one's  lodging  or  restaurant  or  running  away 
to  the  country  for  a  little  while;  but  we  can 
still  further  draw  up  a  complete  and  detailed 
plan  of  battle  against  all  perils  from  within. 

Such  a  plan  is  of  the  greatest  importance. 
If  it  is  carefully  prepared,  one  knows  what 
one  must  do  when  a  sexual  suggestion  steals 
into  the  mind,  and  will  not  be  driven  out. 
One  knows  how  to  conquer  attacks  of  vague 
sentimentality;  how  to  get  the  better  of  the 
blues  and  to  rise  above  discouragement.  Like 
a  wise  general,  one  must  not  only  estimate 

[188] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


the  obstacles  to  be  overcome  in  the  strength 
of  the  enemy,  in  the  difficulties  of  the  ground 
and  the  failings  of  one's  own  troops,  but  one 
must  count  up  one's  own  chances  of  success 
by  taking  into  consideration  the  weakness  of 
the  enemy's  commander,  the  advantages  of 
such  a  ridge  or  elevation  in  the  ground,  and 
of  the  spirit  of  his  own  forces.  Then  one 
can  march  to  the  front.  The  enemies  at  home 
and  abroad  are  known,  their  tactics  and  their 
weak  points  are  also  known,  and  there  is  no 
doubt  of  final  victory,  for  one  will  have  fore- 
seen everything,  even  an  orderly  retreat  in 
case  of  temporary  defeat. 

It  is  to  just  such  dangers  from  within  and 
without,  by  which  the  student  may  be  assailed, 
that  we  must  devote  our  attention.  We  must 
study  the  proper  tactics  to  overcome  them. 
We  shall  see  how  we  can  utilize  external  cir- 
cumstances and  even  make  the  very  things 
that  have  brought  on  a  moral  relapse  coop- 
erate in  the  self-education  of  the  will. 

Just  so  true  it  is  that  reflection  and  intelli- 
gence are  the  surest  liberators  of  the  will,  so 
true  it  is  that  in  time  the  powers  of  light 
will  triumph  over  the  forces  of  the  senses. 

[189] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

As  we  have  seen,  meditative  reflection  is 
marvel ously  fertile  in  results :  It  gives  birth 
to  strong  affective  emotions;  it  transforms 
vacillating  tendencies  into  energetic  resolu- 
tions; it  utilizes  the  influence  of  the  sugges- 
tions of  language  and  passion;  it  enables  us 
to  get  a  clear  glimpse  of  the  future,  and  to 
foresee  the  dangers  arising  from  our  own 
nature  and  to  avoid  the  external  circum- 
stances of  our  environment,  that  contribute 
to  our  natural  indolence.  But  are  these  im- 
portant advantages  the  only  benefit  which 
we  may  expect  from  it?  No;  for  in  addition 
to  the  direct  aid  which  it  brings  us,  it  is  rich 
in  indirect  results. 

It  enables  us  to  evolve  from  the  experience 
of  each  day  certain  rules  which,  tho  at  first 
provisional,  gradually,  as  they  are  tested  be- 
come definite,  and  finally  acquire  the  author- 
ity and  the  strength  of  directing  principles 
of  conduct.  These  principles  are  formed  by 
the  slow  deposit  in  the  depth  of  thought  of 
innumerable  detailed  observations.  This  de- 
posit can  never  take  place  in  the  minds  of 
careless  or  restless  people.  Such  never  profit 
by  the  past,  and  like  inattentive  pupils,  they 

[190] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


are  always  making  the  same  mistakes  and 
solecisms,  but  here  they  are  mistakes  and 
solecisms  of  conduct.  On  the  other  hand,  to 
those  who  reflect,  the  past  and  the  present 
serve  as  a  perpetual  lesson  which  enables 
them  not  to  make  avoidable  mistakes  in  the 
future.  These  lessons  finally  become  reduced 
to  rules,  which  express  our  experiences  con- 
centrated and  reduced  to  their  quintessence. 
These  rules,  formulated  into  maxims,  help 
to  discipline  our  changing  desires  and  those 
natural  emotions  which  tend  to  urge  us  in 
different  directions  and  to  establish  our  con- 
duct upon  a  definite  steadfast  basis.  This 
force,  which  is  inherent  in  all  distinctly 
formulated  principles,  springs  from  two  con- 
tributory causes. 

First,  it  is  an  almost  absolute  rule  in  psy- 
chology that  every  idea  of  an  action  to  be 
accomplished,  or  to  be  shunned,  if  it  is  very 
distinct,  has,  in  the  absence  of  hostile  affect- 
ive states,  a  power  of  realization,  which  is 
explained  by  the  fact  that  there  is  no  great 
essential  difference  between  the  idea  and  its 
action.  When  an  action  is  conceived,  it  is 
already  begun.  The  preimagining  of  an 

[191] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

action  is  like  its  frequent  repetition,  in  that 
it  produces  a  semi-tension,  which  precedes 
the  final  tension  in  such  a  way  that  the  pre- 
conceived action  is  rapidly  executed.  The 
ringleader  of  the  inclination  has  not  a 
chance  to  raise  his  voice.  For  example,  you 
have  resolved  to  go  to  your  room  and  work, 
but  you  foresee  that  a  friend,  who  has 
already  asked  you  to  go  with  him  to  the  thea- 
ter, will  be  apt  to  insist.  You  prepare  your 
reply  and  you  hear  yourself  saying:  "I  am 
very  sorry,  I  can  not  go  with  you ;  but  some- 
thing has  come  up  which  makes  it  absolutely 
necessary  for  me  to  go  home."  The  very 
firm  decided  tone  in  which  you  will  say  this, 
will  cut  off  all  possibility  of  changing  your 
own  mind,  and  will  also  make  it  impossible 
for  your  friend  to  insist  any  further. 

In  politics,  it  is  the  men  of  clearly  defined 
and  bold  initiative  who  lead  the  wavering 
and  the  timid  and  the  mere  ranters.  So,  also, 
in  consciousness  it  is  the  clear  decided  men- 
tal state  which  remains  master  of  the  situa- 
tion. If  you  plan  out  even  to  the  smallest 
detail  the  line  of  conduct  which  you  ought 
to  follow,  you  will  foresee  as  you  develop 

[192] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


your  program  just  where  suggestions  of 
laziness  and  vanity  will  come  in,  and  will  be 
able  to  nip  them  in  the  bud. 

Herein  lies  the  first  cause  of  the  power  of 
principles.  It  is  not  the  only  one  nor  even 
the  most  important.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
process  of  thought  is  too  swift  to  permit  us 
to  be  always  dragging  a  load  of  images  along 
after  us.  We  replace  certain  groups  of  spe- 
cial thoughts  by  convenient  abbreviations 
and  signs  which  we  readily  understand  and 
which  we  call  words.  We  know  that  if  we 
wish  to,  we  only  need  to  fix  our  attention  on 
one  of  these  signs  for  a  moment  to  have  its 
particular  image  rise  up  before  us,  just  as 
hundreds  of  dried-up  rotifers  will  come  to 
life  if  one  lets  a  drop  of  water  fall  upon 
them.  It  is  just  the  same  with  our  sentiments. 
They  are  heavy,  cumbersome  things  and 
hard  for  thought  to  handle;  therefore,  they 
are  replaced  in  current  usage  by  words  which 
are  short,  handy  signs,  which,  by  association 
are  always  ready  to  awaken  the  sentiments 
which  they  represent.  Certain  words  vi- 
brate, so  to  speak,  with  the  emotion  which 
they  signify:  such  are  the  words  honor,  no- 

[193] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

bility  of  soul,  human  dignity,  felony,  coward- 
ice, etc.  In  just  the  same  way  principles  are 
concise  abbreviations,  which  are  all  powerful 
to  awaken  the  complex  sentiments  of  greater 
or  less  strength  which  they  represent  in  the 
ordinary  state  of  consciousness.  When  medi- 
tation has  given  rise  to  an  emotion  either 
for  or  against  an  idea,  it  is  a  good  plan  to 
preserve  it,  as  these  emotions  disappear  very 
quickly,  in  the  form  of  a  set  phrase  or  as 
a  formula  which  can  be  recalled  in  case  of 
need,  and  which  in  a  certain  fashion  sums 
up  the  whole  emotion.  One  of  the  advantages 
of  a  definite  formula  is  that  it  may  become 
firmly  fixt  in  the  mind.  As  it  is  easily  sum- 
moned into  consciousness  it  brings  along 
with  it  the  associated  feelings  of  which  it  is 
the  practical  sign.  In  exchange  for  the  power 
which  it  derives  from  the  feelings,  it  bestows 
upon  them  its  own  clearness  and  the  ease  with 
which  it  can  be  aroused  when  it  is  wanted  and 
carried  about.  If  we  had  no  such  clear  rules 
in  the  education  of  self,  we  would  lose  our 
general  point  of  view  as  well  as  our  adroit- 
ness in  the  struggle  against  our  environment 
and  passions.  Without  them,  it  would  be  like 

[194] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 

fighting  in  the  dark,  and  the  greatest  vic- 
tories would  be  incomplete. 

Thus,  rules  of  conduct  give  the  will  that 
decision  and  spontaneous  vigor  which  assures 
its  triumph;  they  become  convenient  substi- 
tutes for  the  sentiments  which  we  want  to 
arouse.  Here  again  it  is  meditation  which 
calls  forth  these  new  and  most  valuable  aids 
to  our  emancipation,  since  it  alone  enables 
the  mind  to  abstract  from  our  innumerable 
experiences  those  constant  coexistences  and 
sequences  on  which  our  science  of  life  is 
based;  that  is  to  say,  our  power  of  fore- 
seeing and  directing  the  future. 

To  sum  up,  meditative  reflection  produces 
outbursts  of  affective  enthusiasm  which  are 
most  valuable  when  one  knows  how  to  use 
them.  It  is,  furthermore,  the  great  liberating 
power,  because  it  enables  us  to  hold  back 
that  turbulent  host  of  sentiments  and  pas- 
sions and  ideas,  which  are  always  pushing 
themselves  without  rime  or  reason  into  the 
light  of  consciousness.  It  also  enables  us  to 
stop  short  in  the  midst  of  the  excitements  of 
the  outside  world  and  find  ourselves.  This 
power  of  withdrawing  from  the  multitude 

[195] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

and  living  within  one's  self  is  one  of  the 
greatest  happiness,  because  instead  of  being 
obliged  to  let  ourselves  be  borne  passively 
along  without  ever  being  able  to  come  back, 
we  can,  at  will,  return  to  the  happy  memories 
of  existence,  dwell  on  them  and  live  them 
over  again. 

In  fact,  this  meditative  reflection  is  nothing 
more  than  the  power  to  be  very  strongly  con- 
scious of  one's  own  personality.  One  expe- 
riences something  of  the  joy  that  a  strong 
swimmer  feels  in  struggling  against  the 
waves,  sometimes  letting  them  rise  up  and 
pass  over  him  like  a  caress  and  again  plun- 
ging into  them  and  taking  them  headlong.  If 
our  feeling  of  power  in  our  victorious  strug- 
gle against  the  elements  produces  such  agree- 
able emotions,  what  a  vital  interest  we  shall 
feel  in  the  struggle  of  the  will  against  the 
brute  forces  of  sensibility!  It  is  because 
Corneille  painted  the  joys  of  self-mastery 
that  he  occupies  such  a  high  place  in  the 
admiration  of  posterity.  If  his  characters  had 
had  a  less  easy  victory,  and  if  their  struggle 
against  the  fatalities  of  our  animal  nature 
had  been  more  prolonged,  his  dramas  would 

[196] 


MEDITATIVE  REFLECTION 


have  been  much  more  human ;  but  as  he  chose 
to  offer  us  noble  ideals,  Corneille  has  become 
not  only  the  first  of  French  dramatic  poets, 
but  the  most  enlightened  and  admirable 
genius  of  all  time. 


[197] 


n 


WHAT    MEDITATION    MEANS    AND    HOW    TO 
MEDITATE 


As  meditative  reflection  is  such  an  impor- 
tant element  in  the  work  of  enfranchisement, 
it  is  important  to  find  out  how  we  ought  to 
meditate,  and  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of 
the  assistance  which  we  may  hope  to  derive 
from  our  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  psychol- 
ogy and  experience. 

We  must  state  once  again  that  meditative 
reflection  enables  us  to  stir  up  powerful  emo- 
tions of  affection  or  of  hatred  in  our  souls; 
it  leads  us  to  make  resolutions,  to  form  our 
conduct  along  certain  lines,  and  also  shows  us 
how  to  escape  from  that  double  vortex  of 
thoughts,  ideas  and  conscious  states  that 
spring  up  within  us,  and  those  that  are  sug- 
gested by  the  outside  world. 

The  broad  general  rule  for  profitable  re- 
flection and  meditation  is  based  on  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  very  nature  of  thought.  We 
think  with  words.  As  we  have  already  said, 

[198] 


WHAT  MEDITATION  MEANS 

we  have  been  obliged,  in  thinking,  to  get  rid 
of  real  images,  because  they  are  heavy  and 
cumbersome,  and  not  easily  managed.  In 
place  of  them  we  have  substituted  short  signs 
that  are  easily  retained  and  easily  passed  on 
to  others:  These  signs  are  our  common 
words.  A  word  associated  with  a  thing 
has  the  power  of  calling  up  the  thing  at  will, 
on  condition  that  the  word  has  entered  the 
memory  after  one  has  had  experience  with 
the  thing,  or  at  least  that  the  experience  of 
the  thing  has  been  added  to  the  knowledge 
word.  Unfortunately,  when  we  are  children 
we  learn  the  words  first  (except  those  which 
express  elementary  states  of  consciousness, 
simple  perceptions,  etc.).  With  the  great 
majority  of  words  which  we  have  learned  to 
use  we  have  lacked  the  time  or  the  oppor- 
tunity, or  possibly  the  courage  to  find  out 
the  real  meaning  which  the  word  conveys. 
Our  "ears  of  corn"  are  very  scantily  filled, 
and  often  entirely  empty.  All  of  us,  without 
exception,  have  a  great  number  of  such 
words  in  our  memory.  I,  for  instance,  have 
never  heard  the  "barrir"1  of  an  elephant; 

1  The  cry,  as  in  pain  or  rage. 
[199] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

the  word  "barrir"  conveys  nothing  to  me 
whatever.  The  masses  have  quantities  of 
such  words.  They  will  often  say  in  order  to 
end  a  discussion,  that  "  experience "  has 
shown,  etc.  They  are  absolutely  ignorant  of 
the  necessary  conditions  under  which  expe- 
rience will  be  worth  anything.  And  so  on, 
one  after  another.  If  we  examine  the  com- 
mon words  that  we  use,  we  shall  be  amazed 
at  the  vagueness  of  many  of  our  thoughts, 
and  we  shall  even  find  that  the  most  intelli- 
gent men  sometimes  talk  like  parrots,  with- 
out any  real  meaning  back  of  the  words  they 
utter. 

Well,  to  meditate  is,  as  it  were,  to  thrash 
the  straw  to  get  the  grain.  The  most  im- 
portant rule  which  we  must  make  for  our 
guidance  is  always  to  replace  words  by  the 
thing  for  which  they  stand.  Not  by  vague  in- 
definite pictures  of  things,  but  by  things  seen 
in  minute  detail.  We  must  always  try  to  indi- 
vidualize our  thought  and  make  it  concrete. 
If,  for  example,  it  is  the  question  of  a  young 
man  making  up  his  mind  to  decide  not  to 
smoke.  He  must  examine  all  the  drawbacks 
attendant  upon  smoking,  without  omitting 

[200] 


WHAT  MEDITATION  MEANS 

a  single  one,  from  the  discoloration  of  his 
teeth  to  the  eighty  dollars  a  year  that  a  single 
cigar  after  each  meal  would  cost.  He  must 
take  the  trouble  to  verify  Tolstoi's  very 
true  observation  that  tobacco  dulls  the  keen- 
ness of  the  mind.  He  must  try  some  day 
when  he  feels  that  his  mind  is  very  clear  to 
follow  some  subtle  philosophic  deduction,  then 
to  continue  it  while  he  smokes.  He  will  then 
find  out  how  hard  it  is  to  fix  his  mind  on 
what  he  is  reading  and  to  understand  it. 
Several  similar  experiences  will  convince  him 
that  tobacco  really  does  dull  the  penetrating 
and  discriminating  powers  of  the  mind.  He 
will  remember,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the 
pleasure  of  smoking  is  one  of  those  purely 
physical  pleasures,  which  will  disappear,  as 
so  many  other  pleasures  do,  only  to  give 
place  to  a  tyrannical  habit.  He  will  recall 
all  the  cases  that  he  knows  of,  where  people 
have  suffered  from  this  tyranny.  By  such 
observation  and  many  others  the  resolution 
will  gain  in  force.  The  same  method  of  see- 
ing things  in  detail  must  be  applied  when  one 
is  dwelling  upon  the  satisfaction  that  work 
brings  with  it. 

[201] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

It  is  only  by  employing  the  most  detailed 
analysis  that  the  suggestions  of  language,  the 
illusions  of  passion,  and  the  deceptive  in- 
fluence of  bad  advice  can  be  allayed.  The 
much  reiterated  statement  that  Paris  is  the 
only  place  where  good  work  can  be  done  will 
be  challenged  in  the  practical  portion  of  this 
book.  It  is,  moreover,  just  this  kind  of  de- 
tailed observation  that  enables  us  to  acquire 
unerring  forewarning  of  the  dangers  which 
are  likely  to  proceed  from  our  passions  and 
our  laziness,  as  well  as  the  forewarning,  not 
only  of  dangers,  but  of  benefits  as  well, 
which  will  probably  come  from  our  environ- 
ment, our  social  relations,  our  profession,  or 
our  chance  opportunities. 

In  order  to  be  able  to  meditate  to  the  best 
possible  advantage,  we  must  avoid  distrac- 
tion, and  concentrate  our  thoughts  on  our 
idea;  then  we  must  consult  the  books  which 
deal  with  the  subject  of  our  actual  medita- 
tion, and  read  over  our  notes.  By  an  ener- 
getic use  of  the  imagination  we  can  repre- 
sent to  ourselves  very  clearly  and  succinctly 
and  concretely  all  the  elements  of  danger 
which  we  are  likely  to  run,  and  all  the  ad- 

[202] 


WHAT  MEDITATION  MEANS 

vantages  to  be  derived  from  such  a  course  of 
conduct  or  from  another.  It  is  not  enough 
to  touch  upon  these  rapidly.  We  must,  as  it 
were,  hear  and  feel  and  touch.  We  must 
reflect  so  intensely  as  to  make  the  thing  we 
are  thinking  about  as  really  present  as  if 
it  actually  were  so.  As  really  present,  did 
I  say?  Much  more  so,  I  should  have  said, 
for  just  as  art  can  render  a  scene  or  a  land- 
scape more  logical  and  more  united,  and 
therefore  more  realistic  than  reality,  so  our 
imagination  ought  to  make  the  object  of  our 
meditation  more  distinct  to  us,  more  logical 
and  truer  than  it  is  in  reality,  and  therefore 
more  vital  and  more  capable  of  influen- 
cing us. 

II 

There  are  certain  helpful  methods  by 
which  our  reflections  are  enabled  to  produce 
their  effect.  The  greatest  leaders  of  the 
Catholic  faith,  rich  in  the  experience  of  their 
predecessors,  and  their  own  personal  obser- 
vations which  they  have  unceasingly  gath- 
ered from  the  confessional,  to  whom  the 

[203] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

arousing  of  powerful  emotions  in  the  soul  is 
not  a  means,  but  the  supreme  end,  show  us 
the  great  psychological  value  of  even  the 
most  trifling  practises.  One  can  not  attend 
a  church  ceremony  without  being  filled  with 
admiration  for  the  unimpeachable  thorough- 
ness which  characterizes  its  every  detail.  For 
example,  in  a  funeral  service,  every  gesture, 
every  attitude,  all  the  chants,  the  organ,  even 
the  light  from  the  stained-glass  windows, 
combine  in  a  marvelously  logical  manner  to 
weld  the  grief  of  the  relatives  into  a  relig- 
ious exaltation.  To  those  who  attend  such 
ceremonies  with  sincere  faith  the  emotion 
must  penetrate  into  the  innermost  recesses 
of  the  soul. 

But  even  in  church  these  emotional  cere- 
monies are  the  exception,  and  the  spiritual 
directors  have  recourse  to  a  certain  number 
of  bodily  practises  which,  they  advise,  be  fol- 
lowed, and  which  are  sure  to  arouse  emotion. 
Without  going  into  the  subject  of  "  retreats " 
and  confining  ourselves  only  to  those  prac- 
tises which  they  recommend  in  solitude,  one 
can  not  but  be  struck  by  the  number  of  ways 
in  which  they  resort  to  physical  actions  to 

[204] 


WHAT  MEDITATION  MEANS 

support  moral  strength.  St.  Dominick  in- 
vented the  rosary,  thereby  quickening  medi- 
tation by  a  manual  occupation,  which  almost 
partook  of  the  nature  of  a  pastime.  St. 
Frangois  de  Salles  recommends,  especially 
as  a  means  of  surmounting  one's  periods  of 
indifference,  that  one  should  have  recourse  to 
external  actions  and  attitudes,  which  are 
likely  to  suggest  thoughts,  to  reading  and  to 
words  spoken  aloud.  Does  not  Pascal  con- 
stantly speak  of  "falling  automatically  upon 
one's  knees  1 "  Leibnitz  himself  (Sy sterna 
theologicum),  in  a  passage  that  is  but  little 
known,  says:  "I  do  not  share  the  feeling  of 
those,  who,  under  the  pretext  of  worshiping 
in  spirit  and  in  truth,  would  banish  from  di- 
vine worship  everything  that  touches  the 
senses  or  excites  the  imagination,  without 
taking  into  consideration  our  human  infirmi- 
ties ...  we  can  neither  fix  our  attention 
on  our  spiritual  thoughts  nor  engrave  them 
on  our  minds  without  connecting  them  with 
some  external  sign:  .  .  .  the  more  ex- 
pressive the  signs,  the  more  efficacious  they 
are!" 
Thus  profiting  by  experience,  when  we  are 

[205] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

trying  to  meditate,  and  the  inspiration  will 
not  come,  we  should  turn  to  some  book  or 
passage  especially  adapted  to  our  need;  we 
should  insure  our  attention  by  reading  the 
words  aloud.  This,  as  we  have  seen,1  is  a 
sure  means  of  bringing  our  representations 
vividly  before  us,  and  oblige  them  to  obey  us. 
We  ought  even  to  write  out  our  meditations 
taking  advantage  of  the  precedence,  which 
the  presentative  states  have  over  our  repre- 
sentations to  direct  the  latter  according  to 
our  will.  Especially  should  we  use  those 
presentative  states  which  we  have  mentioned, 
which  we  recommend  (words  spoken  aloud, 
writing,  etc.).  In  this  way  we  can  drive  out 
of  consciousness  the  principal  obstacles  to 
reflection,  the  memory  of  the  pleasures  of 
the  senses  and  distractions  of  the  imagina- 
tion, and  substitute  for  them  the  line  of  ideas 
which  we  wish  to  follow. 

As  for  the  most  convenient  time  to  carry 
on  such  affective  meditations,  the  most  ap- 
propriate seems  to  us  the  last  week  of  vaca- 
tion before  going  back  to  our  course  of  study. 
It  is  a  good  plan,  in  each  vacation — that  is 

1  See  Book  I,  Chapter  I,  Sec.  2. 
1206J 


WHAT  MEDITATION  MEANS 

to  say,  three  times  a  year — to  choose  some 
pleasant  retreat  either  in  the  woods  or  on  the 
seashore  and  there  call  up  in  review  all  the 
meditations  which  might  be  useful  to  us.  This 
kind  of  a  "re treat "  is  exceedingly  profita- 
ble. It  will  invigorate  the  will  and  bring  a 
sense  of  conscious  personality  to  the  student. 
But,  in  addition  to  this,  he  must,  in  the 
course  of  the  university  year,  manage  to  have 
many  moments  for  reflection  in  his  intervals 
of  activity.  At  night  before  going  to  sleep, 
or  during  the  night  when  he  awakens,  or 
while  taking  a  few  moments'  rest,  what 
is  easier  than  to  renew  his  good  reso- 
lutions, and  to  decide  what  his  occupa- 
tions and  his  recreations  shall  be?  What 
occupation  could  be  more  useful  on  waking  in 
the  morning,  while  dressing,  or  on  the  way  to 
his  work,  than  for  him  to  encourage  his  mind 
to  "blossom  with  noble  aspirations, "  and  to 
lay  out  his  plan  of  conduct  for  the  day?  Such 
habits  of  frequent  meditation  are  very  quick- 
ly formed.  The  adoption  of  them  is,  more- 
over, so  rich  in  good  results  that  young  peo- 
ple can  not  be  too  strongly  advised  to  make 
the  necessary  effort  to  establish  such  habits. 

[207] 


ni 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION  IN  THE  EDUCATION 
OF  THE  WILL 


MEDITATIVE  reflection  is  an  indispensable 
element  in  the  education  of  the  will,  but  by 
itself  it  is  powerless.  It  gathers  the  scat- 
tered forces  of  the  mind  together  for  united 
action  and  gives  enthusiasm  and  incentive; 
but,  just  as  the  strongest  winds  of  heaven 
pass  uselessly  by  if  they  meet  no  sail  to  swell 
and  drive  forward,  so  even  the  most  power- 
ful emotions  lie  sterile  if  they  do  not,  each 
time  that  they  arise,  contribute  some  of  their 
energy  to  our  activity,  in  the  same  way 
that  some  of  the  work  a  student  does  is  regis- 
tered in  his  memory.  So  is  our  generative 
line  registered  in  our  habits  of  activity. 
Nothing  is  lost  in  our  psychological  life ;  na- 
ture is  a  most  scrupulous  accountant.  Those 
actions  which  appear  the  most  insignificant, 
if  only  they  are  constantly  repeated,  will 

[208] 


THE  BOLE  OF  ACTION 


form  for  us  in  the  course  of  weeks  or  months 
or  years  an  enormous  total  which  is  inscribed 
in  organic  memory  in  the  form  of  ineradica- 
ble habits.  Time,  which  is  such  a  valuable 
ally  in  helping  us  to  obtain  our  freedom, 
works  with  the  same  tranquil  persistency 
against  us  when  we  do  not  oblige  it  to  work 
for  us.  It  makes  use  of  the  dominant  law 
of  psychology  which  is  the  law  of  habit,  either 
for  or  against  us.  Supreme  in  its  power  and 
sure  of  its  triumph,  habit  proceeds  slowly 
forward  in  its  scarcely  perceptible  march. 
One  would  say  that  it  could  appreciate  to  the 
full  the  tremendous  efficacy  of  slow  actions 
that  are  indefinitely  repeated.  An  action 
which  has  once  been  accomplished,  even  tho 
most  laboriously,  is  less  difficult  on  its 
repetition;  the  third  and  fourth  time  the 
effort  it  requires,  becomes  still  less  and  this 
continues  to  diminish  until  it  disappears  alto- 
gether. Did  I  say  disappears  I  An  action  un- 
dertaken at  first  with  compunction  gradually 
begins  to  assume  the  proportions  of  a  neces- 
sity, and  altho  it  was  frankly  disagreeable  at 
first,  it  finally  reaches  the  point  where  its 
non  -  accomplishment  becomes  distressing. 

[209] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

This  characteristic  is  a  most  valuable  aid  for 
us  in  regard  to  those  actions  which  we  wish 
to  perform,  for  it  is  able  promptly  to  change 
the  rugged  path  upon  which  we  hesitated  to 
enter  into  a  wide  and  pleasant  road.  It  does 
a  slight  violence  to  our  better  feelings  before 
it  leads  us  whither  we  have  decided  to  go, 
along  that  road  which  our  laziness  at  first 
prevented  us  from  taking. 

This  crystallization  of  our  energy  into 
habits  can  not  be  accomplished  by  meditative 
reflection;  it  requires  action.  It  is  hardly 
enough  to  point  out  merely  in  a  general  way 
the  necessity  of  action,  for  the  word  is  apt 
to  be  misleading,  and  too  often  hides  from 
sight  the  very  realities  which  it  is  meant  to 
indicate.  The  activity  in  which  we  are  in- 
terested now,  is  the  activity  of  the  student. 
To  act,  is  for  the  student  to  accomplish  a 
great  many  special  actions,  for  just  as  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  will,  but  only  voluntary 
actions,  so  in  the  same  way  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  action,  but  only  individual  acts.  Ac- 
tion, to  the  student  of  philosophy,  for  exam- 
ple, means  to  get  up  at  seven  in  the  morning 
and  read  with  the  closest  attention  a  chapter 

[210] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


of  Leibnitz  or  Descartes;  it  means  to  take 
notes,  etc.  Even  to  read  demands  a  great 
number  of  successive  efforts  of  attention. 
Action  means  to  go  over  the  notes  again,  to 
learn  them  by  heart,  to  look  up  references 
and  material  for  an  essay,  to  lay  out  a  gen- 
eral plan  of  it,  then  to  make  a  plan  of  each 
paragraph;  it  includes  meditation,  research 
and  the  patient  working  up  of  collected  ma- 
terial. 

It  is  very  rare  that  the  chance  comes  in 
life  for  the  accomplishment  of  a  great  deed. 
Just  as  an  excursion  to  Mont  Blanc  resolves 
into  thousands  of  footsteps  and  various  ef- 
forts, leaping  from  point  to  point  and  cut- 
ting notches  in  the  ice,  in  the  same  way  the 
life  of  a  great  thinker  resolves  itself  into  a 
long  series  of  patient  efforts.  To  act  means, 
therefore,  to  perform  thousands  of  small  ac- 
tions. Bossuet,  who  was  a  wonderful  spirit- 
ual guide,  preferred  those  little  sacrifices, 
which,  he  said,  were  "  of  ten  the  most  morti- 
fying and  humiliating "  to  "  those  extraordi- 
nary efforts  where  one  attained  great  heights 
in  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm,  but  from  which 
one  fell  into  the  abyss;"  the  slow  but  sure 

[211] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

gain,  the  simple  acts,  which  often  repeated 
gradually  pass  into  habits  ...  a  little,  he 
held,  was  enough  for  each  day  if  each  day 
accomplishes  his  little.1  In  short  the  brave 
man  is  not  he  who  performs  some  great  act 
of  courage,  but  rather  he  who  courageously 
performs  all  the  acts  of  life.  That  student 
who,  in  spite  of  his  disinclination,  makes  him- 
self get  up  and  look  up  a  word  in  the  diction- 
ary, who  finishes  his  work  in  spite  of  his 
desire  to  loaf  a  little,  who  reads  to  the  end 
of  a  difficult  page — he  is  the  man  of  courage. 
It  is  by  these  thousand  apparently  insignifi- 
cant actions  that  the  will  is  strengthened, 
and  "all  work  begins  to  bear  fruit. "  We 
must,  therefore,  in  the  absence  of  great  ef- 
forts, do  hourly  some  small  thing  heartily, 
and  excellently  well.  Qui  spernit  modica 
paulatim  decidet. 

The  great  thing  is  to  escape  even  in  our 
smallest  actions  from  the  bondage  of  laziness 
and  from  the  distraction  of  desires  and  im- 
pulses that  have  nothing  to  do  with  our  work. 
We  ought  always  to  be  on  the  lookout  for 
opportunities  to  win  these  little  victories. 

i  See  the  Bossuet  of  Lanson. 

[212] 


THE  BOLE  OF  ACTION 


Somebody  calls  you,  perhaps,  during  your 
work.  You  have  a  feeling  of  rebellion,  but 
you  immediately  get  up  and  make  yourself 
go  promptly  and  cheerfully  to  look  after  the 
matter  that  requires  your  attention.  After 
the  lecture  a  friend  wants  you  to  go  off  with 
him;  the  weather  is  beautiful,  but  you 
promptly  get  back  to  work.  You  pass  the 
library  on  your  way  home  and  are  strongly 
tempted  to  go  in,  but  you  resolutely  cross 
over  to  the  other  side  of  the  street  and  walk 
rapidly  past.  'It  is  by  such  self  denials  that 
you  gradually  acquire  the  habit  of  conquer- 
ing your  inclinations,  and  of  having  always 
and  everywhere  full  control  of  yourself,  .  .  . 
so  that  even  when  you  take  a  nap  or  lounge 
for  a  little  while,  it  is  because  you  have  made 
up  your  mind  to  take  this  rest.  Thus  it  is 
that,  while  even  sitting  on  his  bench  at  school 
studying,  a  child  can  learn  a  science  that 
is  of  more  value  to  him  than  Latin  or 
mathematics;  the  science  of  mastering 
himself,  of  struggling  against  inatten- 
tion, against  tedious  difficulties  and  weari- 
some exercises,  such  as  looking  up  words  in 
a  dictionary  or  rules  in  grammar,  and 

[213] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

against  the  desire  to  waste  time  in  day- 
dreams. And  as  a  comforting  result,  he  finds 
that  his  progress  in  study  is  always,  no  mat- 
ter what  one  may  say,  in  direct  proportion 
to  his  progress  in  this  work  of  mastering 
self;  so  true  is  it  that  energy  of  the  will  is 
not  only  the  most  valuable  acquisition,  but 
at  the  same  time,  the  most  productive  of 
happy  results. 

And  why  are  these  little  efforts  of  so  much 
importance  1  It  is  because  not  one  of  them  is 
lost:  each  has  its  share  in  the  formation  of 
habit,  each  makes  the  acts  which  follow  more 
easy.  Our  actions  react  on  us  by  leaving  be- 
hind them  the  habit  of  paying  attention,  the 
habit  of  getting  promptly  to  work,  the  habit 
of  taking  no  more  heed  of  the  desires  stirring 
within  us  than  we  do  of  the  flies  buzzing 
around  us. 

Further  than  that,  action,  as  we  have  al- 
ready seen,  is  most  efficacious  in  sustaining 
thought  itself.  By  continually  projecting 
presentative  states  of  the  same  nature  as  our 
ideas  into  consciousness,  it  strengthens  the 
attention  and  brightens  it  when  it  burns  low. 
To  write  out  one's  thoughts,  to  take  notes  in 

[214] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


reading,  to  make  our  arguments  clear  by  ex- 
pressing them  in  definite  terms,  all  these,  as 
we  have  said,  lend  the  same  kind  of  aid  to 
thought  as  do  manual  experiments  in  the 
laboratory  to  the  investigator,  or  formulas  to 
the  geometrician. 

But  there  is  another  extremely  important 
result  of  action.  To  act,  is  to  a  certain  extent 
to  set  forth  or  proclaim  our  will.  Our  actions 
publicly  enlist  us  on  one  side  or  the  other. 
All  moralists  say  that  it  is  necessary  for 
any  one,  who  wants  to  lead  a  life  that  is  con- 
sistent with  his  duty,  to  throw  himself,  "bold- 
ly and  from  the  very  start  into  the  right 
way,  in  complete  opposition  to  all  habits,  and 
all  internal  inclinations.  .  .  .  He  must 
brave  everything  and  tear  himself  away  from 
the  old  self,"  and,  according  to  the  vigorous 
expression  of  Veuillot,  he  must  serve  God 
"boldly."  It  is  impossible  to  overestimate 
the  energy  which  is  given  to  the  feelings  and 
the  will  by  taking  a  decided  public  stand. 
Our  previous  acts  are  more  binding  upon  us 
than  we  imagine,  first,  because  the  desire  to 
be  logical  makes  an  inconsistent  life  so  re- 
pelling, that  one  would  prefer  to  stay  as  one 

[215] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

was  rather  than  change  even  for  the  better, 
and  then  because  we  recognize  the  strong 
and  perfectly  justified  human  attitude  that 
would  be  apt  to  attribute  such  inconsistency 
in  our  acts  to  a  weakness  of  the  will,  almost 
bordering  on  insanity.  That  is  why  it  is  im- 
portant when  one  breaks  away  from  a  life 
of  indolence  to  do  so  with  some  publicity, 
to,  as  it  were,  pledge  one's  honor  to  one's  self 
and  to  others.  One's  restaurant,  apartment, 
or  acquaintances  must  perhaps  be  changed. 
Each  word  spoken  must  be  a  corroboration 
of  one's  determination  to  do  right:  every  dis- 
couraging sophism  must  be  politely  but  ener- 
getically repulsed.  One  must  never  let  any 
one  scoff  at  work  to  be  done,  nor  praise  the 
life  of  the  student  who  is  drifting  to  his  de- 
struction. To  be  believed  by  others  to  be 
what  we  ourselves  wish  to  be,  doubles  our 
power  of  self-improvement,  because  that  sat- 
isfies that  very  profound  need,  which  in  our 
weakness  we  all  feel,  of  having  the  approba- 
tion of  others,  even  of  people  whom  we  do  not 
know  at  all. 

To  these  various  influences  of  action  must 
be  added  the  pleasure  that  lies   in   action 

[216] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


itself,  a  pleasure  so  intense  that  many  people 
live  an  active  life  for  the  sake  of  the  activity, 
without  purpose  and  without  profit,  often  to 
their  great  harm.  This  pleasure  has  some- 
thing intoxicating  about  it  that  goes  to  the 
head,  which  springs  perhaps  from  the  fact 
that  action  more  than  anything  else,  gives  us 
a  realizing  sense  of  our  own  existence  and 
our  own  strength. 

It  is  therefore  absolutely  essential  to  com- 
bine action  with  meditation:  indispensable, 
because  it  alone  can  form  firmly  established 
habits,  and,  what  is  more,  can  transform 
those  very  acts,  which  were  at  first  most  dis- 
agreeable to  us,  into  necessities  of  existence. 
It  is  by  action  that  we  fortify  ourselves  to 
struggle  against  the  downward  tendencies  of 
our  nature,  and  to  triumph  constantly  and  at 
every  turn  over  whatever  hinders  us  in  ac 
quiring  complete  mastery  of  self.  Further- 
more, in  letting  our  will  be  known  to  those 
around  us,  action  pledges  our  honor ;  it  reas- 
serts our  resolutions  and,  both  of  itself  and 
by  calling  to  its  aid  the  power  of  opinion, 
thereby  increasing  its  power,  it  brings  us 
strong  and  manly  joys  in  recompense. 

[217] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 


n 

Unfortunately,  the  time  for  voluntary  ac- 
tivity is  very  short,  and  a  large  part  of  life 
is  consumed  by  the  physiological  and  social 
necessities  of  living.  Up  to  five  or  six  years 
of  age  a  child  lives  an  animal  life.  Its  exist- 
ence is  to  sleep  and  eat  and  play.  It  is  kept 
busy  disentangling  from  chaos  the  external 
impressions  which  throng  into  its  conscious- 
ness, and  far  from  dominating  the  outside 
world,  it  is  stunned  by  it.  Until  eighteen 
years  of  age  the  boy  has  too  much  to  do,  and 
too  much  to  study  concerning  what  other  peo- 
ple have  thought,  to  be  able  to  think  for  him- 
self. It  would  seem  as  if  when  his  secondary 
studies  were  finished  he  ought  to  belong  to 
himself  and  should  be  able  to  bring  to  bear 
upon  the  study  of  himself  and  upon  the  so- 
ciety in  which  he  lives,  those  faculties  which 
have  been  sharpened  and  tempered  by  years 
of  disinterested  culture.  Unfortunately  if  he 
is  pretty  well  acquainted  with  the  physical 
world  in  which  he  has  grown  up,  his  vision 
will  suddenly  become  obscure,  a  cloud  will 

[218] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


seem  to  pass  on  the  one  hand  between  his 
faculties  of  observation  and  himself,  and  on 
the  other  hand  between  his  critical  spirit  and 
society.  Vague  dreams,  great  outbursts  of 
enthusiasm  without  any  object,  will  fill  his 
mind.  It  is  at  this  age  that  a  revolution  takes 
place  in  the  body  of  the  adolescent  youth. 
It  is  the  commencement  of  puberty.  At  the 
very  age  where  he  ought  to  be  able  to  learn 
to  master  himself,  his  passions  invade  his 
soul.  It  is  most  unfortunate  for  him,  if,  as 
is  the  case  in  the  colleges  of  Europe  and 
America,  he  finds  himself  permitted  to  have 
entire  liberty  without  any  one  to  lean  upon 
or  to  direct  his  conscience,  and  without  any 
chance  of  piercing  the  thick  atmosphere  of 
illusions  which  smother  him!  The  student 
feels  like  one  stunned,  incapable  of  finding 
his  way,  and  is  led  by  the  prejudices  which 
surround  him.  What  man  is  there,  who  has 
gone  through  this  experience,  who,  looking 
back  to  this  epoch  in  life,  has  not  curst  the 
want  of  foresight  on  the  part  of  society 
which  throws  young  men  on  leaving  school 
or  college  absolutely  alone  into  a  great  city 
without  moral  support  or  without  any  other 

[219] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

council  than  the  stupid  formulas  which  are 
paraded  in  order  to  paint  in  brilliant  colors 
what  is  nothing  more  than  a  life  of  bestial- 
ity f  It  is  a  strange  thing,  but  there  are  many 
fathers  of  families  who  have  a  sort  of  preju- 
dice against  a  life  of  good  hard  honest  work 
on  the  part  of  a  student.  So  great  is  the 
influence  of  contemporary  ideas! 

Add  to  this  that  in  his  isolation  the  young 
man  does  not  even  know  how  to  work ;  he  has 
never  been  taught  any  method  of  work 
adapted  to  his  powers  or  to  the  quality  of 
his  mind.  Thus  the  years  devoted  to  higher 
studies  generally  count  for  nothing  in  this 
work  of  self -enfranchisement.  Nevertheless, 
they  are  the  beautiful  radiant  years  of  life! 
The  student  lives  almost  absolutely  to  him- 
self alone.  The  thousand  demands  of  social 
life  scarcely  weigh  upon  him  at  all.  One 
sees  no  trace  of  the  harness  upon  his  shoul- 
ders ;  that  is  to  say,  of  his  profession  or  ca- 
reer. He  is  still  free  from  those  cares  which 
he  must  assume  later  on  as  the  head  of  a 
family.  His  days  are  his  own,  wholly  his 
own!  But  alas!  what  good  is  such  free- 
dom to  him  if  he  is  not  master  of  himself? 

[220] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


"You  have  everything  under  your  control 
here  except  yourself, 'n  one  might  quote  to 
him,  and  the  days  slip  by  too  often  without 
profit. 

Nevertheless,  even  with  such  utter  free- 
dom the  necessities  of  existence  consume  a 
great  deal  of  time.  Kising  and  dressing,  with 
a  half -hour  for  one's  toilet,  the  necessary 
goings  and  comings  between  the  lecture  halls 
and  one's  room  and  one's  room  to  the  res- 
taurant; meals  and  the  necessary  time  for 
digestion  before  one  can  do  mental  work 
again,  a  few  visits,  a  few  letters  to  write,  un- 
foreseen interruptions,  necessary  exercise, 
the  hours  that  must  be  counted  off  in  sick- 
ness ;  all  this  array  of  imperative  necessities 
consume,  if  one  adds  the  eight  hours  of  sleep 
necessary  to  those  who  work,  nearly  sixteen 
hours  a  day.  The  calculation  is  not  hard  to 
make.  Later  there  will  be  added  to  these 
demands  those  of  one's  career,  and  then,  even 
by  cutting  down  to  its  lowest  possible  limit 
the  time  devoted  to  meals  and  to  exercise, 
there  are  very  few,  who  can  command  five 
hours  a  day  wholly  to  themselves  to  spend 

i  Beaumarchais,  "Le  mariage  de  Figaro. " 
[221] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

upon  their  desired  work  or  in  tranquil  medi- 
tation. Still  further,  if  from  our  apparent 
work  we  subtract  the  time  that  must  be  spent 
in  looking  up  references  in  books,  in  copying 
and  writing,  and  even  the  time  spent  in  paus- 
ing to  rest,  during  which  no  effort  is  possi- 
ble, we  will  see  how  very  short  the  time  is 
that  can  be  devoted  to  real  mental  effort.  Any 
one  who  reflects  for  a  moment  will  wax 
wroth  over  those  deceptive  biographies  which 
are  so  discouraging  to  young  people,  in 
which  learned  men  and  great  political  char- 
acters are  represented  as  working  fifteen 
hours  every  day! 

Happily,  as  Bos  suet  has  remarked  in  the 
passage  already  quoted,  a  little  suffices  for 
each  day,  if  each  day  accomplishes  that  lit- 
tle. Even  at  the  slowest  pace  one  reaches 
the  journey 's  end  if  one  never  stops.  The 
important  thing  in  intellectual  work  is  not 
so  much  regularity  as  continuity.  It  has 
been  said  that  genius  is  only  infinite  patience. 
All  great  works  have  been  accomplished  by 
persevering  patience.  It  was  by  perpetually 
thinking  about  it  that  Newton  discovered  uni- 
versal gravitation.  "It  is  wonderful  what 

[222] 


THE  EOLE  OF  ACTION 


one  can  do  with  one's  time,  when  one  has 
patience  to  wait  and  not  to  hurry, ' '  wrote  La- 
cordaire.  Look  at  nature:  A  torrent  which 
devastated  the  valley  of  Saint-Gervais 
brought  with  it  only  a  very  small  quantity  of 
refuse.  On  the  other  hand,  the  slow  action 
of  the  frosts  and  rain,  the  scarcely  percepti- 
ble movement  of  glaciers,  manages  in  some 
way  by  the  grinding  of  stone  on  stone  to  dis- 
integrate rocky  walls,  and  to  bring  an  enor- 
mous quantity  of  alluvial  deposit  down  to  the 
valley  every  year.  A  torrent,  which  carries 
gravel  along  with  it,  wears  every  day  into 
the  granite  over  which  it  flows,  and  in  the 
course  of  centuries  it  has  hollowed  gorges  of 
great  depth  in  the  rock.  It  is  the  same  way 
with  the  works  of  man:  they  advance  by  the 
accumulation  of  efforts  which  are  so  small 
when  looked  at  by  themselves  that  they  seem 
out  of  all  proportion  to  the  work  accom- 
plished. Gaul,  which  was  formerly  covered 
with  forests  and  fens,  has  been  cleared  and 
cultivated,  ribbed  with  roads  and  canals  and 
railways,  and  dotted  with  villages  and  towns, 
by  myriads  of  muscular  efforts  which  were 
insignificant  in  themselves.  Each  one  of  the 

[223] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

letters  which  go  to  make  up  the  gigantic  com- 
pendium of  Saint  Thomas  Aquinas  were 
written  by  Saint  Thomas  himself,  and  then 
it  was  necessary  for  the  printers  to  pick  the 
letters  of  the  font  one  by  one  out  of  the  case 
in  order  to  set  up  the  book  and  print  it.  It 
was  by  means  of  this  incessantly  repeated 
labor,  lasting  for  several  hours  a  day  for 
fifty  years,  that  this  vast  work  was  produced. 
All  action,  even  acts  of  courage,  may  appear 
under  two  forms  of  unequal  value.  Sometimes 
it  springs  up  suddenly  with  strong  bursts  of 
energy ;  sometimes,  on  the  other  hand,  it  takes 
the  form  of  steady  persevering  patient  work. 
Even  in  war  the  qualities  of  resistance 
against  fatigue  and  discouragement  are  fun- 
damental qualities,  and  it  is  from  them  that 
from  time  to  time  great  deeds  spring  into 
being.  But  every-day  work  does  not  afford 
any  opportunities  for  such  brilliant  fireworks. 
Sudden  outbursts  of  exaggerated  work  are 
not  to  be  recommended  from  any  point  of 
view,  for  they  are  nearly  always  followed 
by  periods  of  exhaustion  and  laziness.  True 
courage  consists  in  long-persevering  pa- 
tience. The  important  thing  for  the  student 

[224] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


to  learn  is  never  to  be  lazy.  Time,  as  will 
readily  be  perceived,  has  an  incomparable 
value,  because  lost  moments  can  never  be  re- 
covered. It  is  very  important  to  economize 
it.  But  I  am  no  advocate  of  rigorous  rules 
and  using  one's  time  according  to  schedule 
where  the  employment  for  every  hour  is  laid 
out  in  advance.  It  is  seldom  that  one  can 
follow  such  hours  exactly,  and  our  laziness 
is  so  ready  to  trump  up  some  sort  of  justifi- 
cation that  it  frequently  falls  back  upon  them 
as  an  excuse  for  doing  nothing  in  hours  that 
were  not  appointed  for  some  especial  work. 
The  only  hours  which  one  should  scrupu- 
lously follow  are  those  which  are  required  by 
rest  and  exercise.  On  the  other  hand,  the  im- 
possibility of  forcing  oneself  to  follow 
rules  in  the  details  of  work,  accustoms  the 
will  to  being  overthrown  constantly  in  its 
efforts;  and  the  feeling  that  we  always  are 
and  always  will  be  overcome  in  this  struggle 
to  do  things  at  a  set  time  is  very  apt  to 
cause  discouragement.  It  often  happens  that 
one  is  not  in  the  best  condition  for  work  at 
a  certain  hour,  but  that  one  is  quite  ready  for 
an  exercise  or  a  walk  at  the  time  set. 

[225] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

There  must,  therefore,  be  a  greater  allow- 
ance of  liberty  and  spontaneity  in  intellectual 
work :  the  aim  to  be  pursued  in  the  education 
of  our  energy  is  not  to  acquire  the  habit  of 
strict  obedience  to  the  orders  of  a  Prussian 
corporal.  Far  from  it — the  end  which  the 
student  has  in  view  is  wholly  different.  It  is 
to  develop  activity,  to  learn  to  be  always  and 
everywhere  active.  There  are  no  set  hours 
for  this  undertaking  because  every  hour  lends 
itself  to  it.  To  be  active  means  to  jump 
bravely  out  of  bed  in  the  morning,  to  dress 
briskly  and  quickly  and  to  set  one 's  self  down 
to  one's  work-table  without  any  hanging 
back,  and  without  allowing  any  outside  pre- 
occupation to  penetrate  the  mind.  To  be  ac- 
tive is  never  to  read  passively,  but  to  be  con- 
stantly making  efforts.  But  it  is  just  as 
much  a  part  of  this  activity  to  get  up  reso- 
lutely and  go  out  for  a  walk  or  to  visit  a 
museum,  when  one  feels  that  one's  nervous 
force  is  growing  weak  and  that  one's  efforts 
are  ceasing  to  be  productive.  For  it  is  the 
greatest  foolishness  to  persevere  indefinitely 
in  unprofitable  work  which  only  exhausts  and 
discourages  one.  One  must  be  ready  to  take 

[226] 


THE  BOLE  OF  ACTION 


advantage  of  these  moments  of  relaxation 
to  visit  picture-galleries,  or  to  enjoy  the 
conversation  of  intelligent  friends.  One  can 
even  practise  this  activity  while  eating,  by 
making  one's  self  chew  one's  food  so 
thoroughly  as  to  avoid  putting  extra  work 
upon  the  stomach.  The  greatest  misfortune 
for  the  student  consists  in  being  seized  by 
attacks  of  inertia  when,  through  lack  of  will, 
he  stupidly  squanders  his  time  in  shameful 
laziness.  He  takes  hours  to  make  his  toilet, 
he  wastes  his  morning  in  yawning  and  list- 
lessly glancing  through  one  book  after  an- 
other. He  can  not  make  up  his  mind  on  either 
side,  either  to  do  nothing  at  all  or  to  set  to 
work.  He  has  no  need  to  go  looking  for 
opportunities  to  be  active,  for  they  go  slip- 
ping past  him  every  day  from  the  moment 
he  gets  up  until  the  moment  he  goes  to  bed. 
The  most  important  thing  in  attaining  this 
mastery  of  one's  energy,  is  never  to  go  to 
sleep  without  making  up  one's  mind  exactly 
what  one  is  going  to  do  the  next  day.  I  do 
not  mean  how  much  should  be  done,  for  one 
could  apply  to  the  system  of  laying  out  an 
exact  measure  of  work,  what  we  have  just 

[227] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

said  about  working  on  schedule  time.  I  am 
only  speaking  of  the  nature  of  the  work. 
When  one  wakes  the  following  morning,  the 
mind  will  instantly  grasp  the  situation  and, 
without  allowing  a  moment  for  distraction, 
will  get  right  to  work  on  the  subject  in  hand, 
even  while  dressing,  and  the  student  will  find 
his  body  set  down  at  his  work-table  and  his 
hand  grasping  a  pen  before  he  has  even  had 
a  second  to  nurse  his  disinclination. 

Furthermore,  if  while  out  working  or  lis- 
tening to  a  lecture  a  pang  of  remorse  rises 
into  consciousness,  if  one  feels  a  touch  of 
grace  in  the  heart  and  is  aware  of  a  wave 
of  helpful  emotion,  then  one  must  profit  by  it 
immediately.  One  must  not  follow  the  ex- 
ample of  those  who  on  Friday  make  the  he- 
roic decision  that  from  the  following  Monday 
they  will  start  to  work,  no  matter  what  hap- 
pens. If  they  do  not  apply  themselves  imme- 
diately, their  imaginary  resolution  is  only  a 
deception  which  they  practise  upon  them- 
selves, a  helpless  passing  inclination.  As 
Leibnitz  says,  we  must  follow  the  good  im- 
pulses which  rise  within  us  "as  if  the  voice 
of  God  were  calling  us."  To  waste  the  effect 

[228] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


of  these  good  impulses,  to  deceive  them  by  de- 
ferring their  execution  until  it  is  too  late, 
failing  to  profit  immediately  by  them  in  crea- 
ting good  habits  and  letting  our  soul  taste 
the  virile  joys  of  work  in  such  a  way  as  to 
appreciate  their  value,  is  the  greatest  set- 
back that  can  happen  to  the  education  of  the 
energy. 

As  our  object  is  not  to  conform  to  regular 
hours,  but  to  act  with  vigor  at  all  times  and 
in  all  places,  it  is  necessary  to  learn  how  to 
use  the  quarter  hours  and  the  minutes.  Listen 
to  what  Darwin's  son  said  of  him.1  "One  of 
his  characteristic  traits  was  his  respect  for 
time.  He  never  for  a  moment  forgot  how 
valuable  a  thing  it  was.  He  economized  every 
minute.  He  never  lost  even  a  few  moments 
which  he  had  on  his  hands  by  imagining  that 
it  was  hardly  worth  while  to  begin  to  work. 
.  .  .:  He  did  everything  very  rapidly  and 
with  a  sort  of  represt  ardor. ' '  These  minutes 
and  quarters  of  an  hour,  which  nearly  all  of 
us  foolishly  lose  because  we  think  it  is  hardly 
worth  while  to  begin  a  thing,  mount  up  in  the 

1 1 1  Life  and  Letters  of  Charles  Darwin, ' '  Vol.  II,  Chap. 
I,  p.  135,  et  seq.  Paris,  1888. 

[229] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

course  of  a  year  to  an  enormous  total.  It  was 
d'Aguesseau,  I  think,  who,  as  his  lunch  was 
never  ready  on  time,  one  day  presented  his 
wife  with  a  book  as  a  sort  of  "hors 
d'oeuvre,"  written  during  the  many  quarters 
of  an  hour  that  he  had  had  to  wait.  It  is  so 
easy  in  a  spare  five  or  ten  minutes  to  "gird 
up"  one's  spirit  by  reading  a  paragraph  with 
keen  interest  or  by  going  on  with  a  few  more 
lines  of  one's  work  or  by  copying  a  passage 
or  running  through  the  table  of  contents  of 
one's  notes  or  lectures. 

It  is  perfectly  true  to  say,  that  time  is 
never  lacking  to  those  who  know  how  to  take 
it.  How  true  is  the  remark  that  they  who 
have  the  most  leisure,  have  the  least  time  to 
accomplish  what  they  ought  to  do,  and,  conse- 
quently, it  is  just  as  true  that  to  complain 
of  having  no  time  to  work  is  practically  to 
acknowledge  that  one  is  cowardly  and  hates 
to  make  the  effort ! 

But  if  we  try  to  find  out  why  it  is  that 
we  lose  so  much  time,  we  shall  see  that,  in 
the  majority  of  cases,  our  weakness  is  in 
some  degree  furthered  by  an  indefinite  idea 
of  the  task  to  be  accomplished.  It  is  a  con- 

[230] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


slant  experience  of  mine  that  if,  before  I  go 
to  sleep,  I  do  not  distinctly  picture  to  myself 
my  work  for  the  next  day,  my  morning  will 
be  useless.  It  is  never  enough  merely  to  out- 
line it  in  a  general  way  and  to  say:  "I  will 
work  to-morrow, "  nor  even  "to-morrow  I 
will  begin  the  study  of  Kant's  ' Moral/  "  but 
I  must  always  set  a  distinct  and  particular 
task  and  say:  "To-morrow  I  will  resolutely 
begin  at  the  commencement  of  the  lecture 
on  ' Practical  Beason'  by  Kant,"  or  "I  will 
study  and  make  a  synopsis  of  such  a  chapter 
in  physiology. "  To  the  precept  of  fixing 
one's  self  a  set  task,  one  must  also  add  that  of 
always  finishing  and  finishing  conscientious- 
ly what  has  been  commenced,  so  that  one 
will  not  have  to  come  back  to  it.  Never  to 
be  obliged  to  do  a  piece  of  work  over  again, 
and  to  do  what  we  have  to  do  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  it  is  done  accurately,  is  an  extraor- 
dinary economy  of  time.  The  student  should 
therefore  do  all  his  reading  in  this  thorough 
and  energetic  fashion,  he  ought  to  write  out  a 
resume  of  what  he  has  read  and  copy  such 
extracts  as  he  may  foresee  will  be  useful  to 
him,  and  then  immediately  classify  his  notes 

[231] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

under  the  title  of  the  table  of  contents  in 
such  a  way  that  he  can  find  them  again  when 
he  wants  to.  In  this  way  he  will  never  need 
to  read  a  book  over  again,  unless  it  should 
be  one  of  his  bedside  books.  One  goes 
slowly  in  this  work,  but  as  one  only  takes  a 
step  in  advance  after  becoming  definitely 
sure  of  what  lies  behind  it,  one  never  has  to 
go  back,  and,  altho  the  path  is  slow,  one  goes 
on  steadily  and  continuously  and,  often,  like 
the  tortoise  in  the  fable,  gets  ahead  of  the 
more  agile  but  less  methodical  hare.  There 
is  no  rule  more  essential  to  our  mind  for 
work  than  this:  Age  quod  agis!  Do  each 
thing  in  its  turn  thoroughly  and  without 
haste  and  without  agitation.  De  Witt,  the 
Grand  Pensionnaire  of  Holland,  directed  all 
the  affairs  of  the  republic  yet,  nevertheless, 
found  leisure  to  go  out  into  society  and  to 
dine  with  friends.  When  they  asked  him  how 
he  was  able  to  find  time  to  finish  such  a  va- 
riety of  business  and  still  to  amuse  himself, 
he  replied:  " There  is  nothing  easier:  it  is 
only  a  question  of  doing  one  thing  at  a  time 
and  of  never  putting  off  until  to-morrow 
what  could  be  done  on  the  same  day."  Lord 

[232] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


Chesterfield  recommended  his  son  never  to 
lose  a  moment's  time  even  in  the  bathroom, 
and  he  used  to  cite  the  example  of  a  man 
who  always  took  several  pages  of  an  ordi- 
nary edition  of  Horace  with  him,  and  then 
dispatched  them  as  a  sacrifice  to  Cloaca! 

Without  pushing  the  idea  of  economizing 
time  quite  so  far,  it  is  certain  that  the  utili- 
zation of  every  moment  toward  some  one  end 
is  of  the  greatest  value.  The  kind  of  activ- 
ity that  does  not  know  how  to  apply  the  law 
of  only  doing  one  thing  at  a  time,  is  unregu- 
lated activity.  It  has  no  unity,  it  flutters 
from  one  thing  to  another.  It  is  perhaps 
even  worse  than  laziness,  for  laziness  be- 
comes disgusted  with  itself,  while  this  rest- 
less activity  by  reason  of  its  sterility  finally 
becomes  disgusted  with  work;  it  substitutes 
for  the  joy  of  progress  that  uneasiness  and 
boredom  and  disgust,  that  always  come  when 
one  undertakes  a  number  of  things  which  one 
can  never  manage  to  finish.  Saint  Francis 
de  Sales  saw  the  hand  of  the  Devil  in  these 
perpetual  changes.  One  should  not,  he  said, 
try  to  do  several  different  things  at  one  and 
the  same  time,  "  because,  often  the  enemy 

[233] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

tries  to  induce  us  to  begin  several  plans,  sc 
that  when  we  are  loaded  with  too  many  cares, 
we  shall  accomplish  nothing  and  leave 
everything  unfinished.  .  .  .  Sometimes  he 
cunningly  raises  the  desire  within  us  to  un- 
dertake some  very  excellent  thing  which  he 
foresees,  that  we  shall  not  be  able  to  accom- 
plish, in  order  to  keep  us  from  pursuing 
some  less  brilliant  thing,  which  we  could 
easily  have  achieved."  * 

On  the  other  hand,  I  have  often  noticed 
that  it  is  the  things  that  are  begun  and  not 
finished  that  make  us  lose  the  most  time. 
They  leave  a  sense  of  discomfort  behind 
them,  analogous  to  that  which  the  long  but 
vain  search  for  the  solution  of  a  problem 
brings  to  us ;  one  has  a  discontented  feeling ; 
the  subject  of  the  neglected  work  avenges 
itself  for  our  disdain  by  haunting  our 
minds  and  disturbing  us  in  all  our  other 
work:  this  is  because  our  awakened  atten- 
tion has  not  had  its  legitimate  satisfaction. 
Work  well  accomplished  leaves  a  feeling 
of  contentment  in  the  mind  that  is,  to  a 
certain  extent,  like  a  satisfied  appetite;  we 

*"Traite  de  1 'amour  dc  Dieu,"  "VTII,  Chap.  IX. 
[234] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


feel  as  tho  a  burden  had  been  lifted  from  our 
thoughts,  and  they  are  free  to  turn  to  some 
new  occupations. 

What  is  true  of  interrupted  work  is  also 
true  of  work  which  we  ought  to  do,  but  which 
is  left  undone.  We  have,  for  instance,  the 
feeling  that  we  must  write  a  letter,  but  nev- 
ertheless we  do  not  write  it.  The  days  pass 
and  we  nurse  the  thought  of  our  duty  like 
remorse  until  it  becomes  most  exasperating, 
but  still  we  do  not  write :  the  obsession  finally 
becomes  so  annoying  that  at  last  we  set  to 
work.  But  when  it  is  done  in  this  tardy 
fashion,  we  do  not  feel  the  pleasure  and  re- 
lief that  usually  accompany  work. 

Therefore  let  us  do  each  thing  at  the  mo- 
ment when  it  should  be  done,  and  let  us  do  it 
thoroughly. 

Ill 

When  a  young  man  has  formed  this  very 
important  and  productive  habit  of  deciding 
things  definitely  and  of  doing  his  work  with- 
out feverish  haste,  but  in  a  thorough, 
straightforward  and  honest  manner,  there  is 

[235] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

no  high  intellectual  destiny  to  which  he  may 
not  aspire.  Whether  he  has  new  ideas  or 
whether  he  sees  old  questions  from  a  new 
point  of  view,  he  is  going  to  harbor  these 
ideas  in  his  thoughts  during  eight  or  ten 
years  of  steady  work.  They  will  gradually 
become  surrounded  by  hundreds  of  similes 
and  comparisons  and  likenesses  hidden  to 
others,  which  will  become  organized  and 
nourish  the  original  ideas  until  they  have 
grown  strong  and  powerful.  And  just  as 
great  trees  spring  from  acorns,  so  from  such 
thoughts,  fostered  by  one 's  attention  for  many 
years,  there  will  be  put  forth  powerful  books, 
which  will  be  to  honest  souls  in  their  strug- 
gle against  evil  what  clarions  sounding  the 
charge  are  to  soldiers,  or  else  these  thoughts 
will  become  concrete  and  will  express  them- 
selves in  a  beautiful  harmonious  life  of  up- 
rightness and  generous  activity. 

We  must  not  deceive  ourselves  on  this 
point.  If  we  have  had  the  good  fortune  to 
be  able  to  enter  upon  the  intellectual  life,  the 
aristocracy  which  education  has  bestowed 
upon  us  can  become  as  thoroughly  odious  as 
the  aristocracy  of  money,  if  we  do  not  make 

[236] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


our  intellectual  superiority  acceptable  by  the 
superiority  of  our  moral  life.  All  of  you 
students,  who  are  leaving  your  college  days 
behind,  and  who  have  become  students  of  law 
or  science  or  literature  or  medicine,  ought 
to  feel  it  your  duty  to  become  the  most  ac- 
tive and  persevering  benefactors  of  those 
who  are  forced  to  win  their  livelihood  in  nar- 
row circumstances  without  ever  being  able  to 
glance  beyond  the  present  hour.  The  stu- 
dents must  necessarily  form  the  directing 
class  in  every  country,  even  in  the  countries 
of  universal  suffrage,  for  the  multitude,  in- 
capable of  directing  itself,  will  always  turn 
for  guidance  to  those  who  have  trained  and 
fortified  their  spirit  by  years  of  disinterested 
culture.  This  situation  imposes  duties  on  all 
young  people  who  have  received  the  benefit 
of  a  higher  education;  for  it  is  evident  that 
to  know  how  to  lead  others,  one  must  first  be 
able  to  lead  one's  self.  If  one  would  preach 
moderation,  unselfishness,  and  devotion  to 
others,  it  must  be  by  force  of  example,  and 
one  must  be  able  to  demonstrate  a  life  of 
active,  energetic  work  by  one's  actions  as 
well  as  by  work. 

[237] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

If  every  year  half  a  dozen  students  would 
go  back  to  their  little  villages  and  towns  as 
physicians  or  lawyers  or  professors,  with 
their  minds  firmly  made  up  to  lose  no  oppor- 
tunity to  speak  or  to  live  in  favor  of  the 
right,  determined  then  to  show  their  colors  on 
every  occasion,  no  matter  how  insignificant 
it  might  seem,  to  let  no  injustice  pass  with- 
out active  and  persevering  protestation,  to 
introduce  more  kindness  and  true  justice  and 
more  tolerance  into  social  relations,  there 
would  be  formed  in  twenty  years'  time  for 
the  good  of  the  country  a  new  aristocracy 
which  would  be  universally  respected,  and 
which  would  be  most  conducive  to  the  general 
good.  Every  young  man  who  leaves  his  uni- 
versity and  sees  nothing  in  law  or  medicine, 
etc.,  but  the  money  which  these  professions 
may  bring,  and  who  has  no  thought  of  any- 
thing else  but  stupid,  vulgar  amusements,  is 
a  pitiful  creature,  and  fortunately  public 
sentiment  is  not  so  very  far  astray  upon  this 
point 


[238] 


THE  BOLE  OF  ACTION 


IV 

But,  the  objection  may  be  raised,  will  not 
such  continual  work  and  constant  preoccupa- 
tion with  one  idea,  and  activity  always  keyed 
up  to  concert  pitch,  have  a  very  bad  effect  on 
the  health?  This  objection  comes  from  the 
false  idea  which  is  popularly  held  of  intel- 
lectual work.  The  continuity,  of  which  we 
have  spoken,  is  meant  in  the  human  sense. 
It  is  evident  that  sleep  interrupts  work  and 
implies  rest.  It  is  also  clear,  according  to 
what  we  have  just  said,  that  the  great  ma- 
jority of  our  waking  time  is  of  necessity  filled 
with  distractions  that  interfere  with  intel- 
lectual work.  To  work  only  means  to  train 
our  mind  not  to  think  of  anything  else  but 
the  object  of  our  study  during  the  time  that 
we  have  nothing  else  to  do.  Furthermore, 
this  word  work  ought  not  to  call  up  a  picture 
of  a  student  seated  with  his  shoulders  bowed 
over  his  task;  one  can  read  or  meditate  or 
compose  by  walking  up  and  down;  it  is  the 
best  and  the  least  fatiguing  method  and  the 
most  productive  of  original  work.  Walking 

[239] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

seems  to  be  a  very  helpful  accompaniment  to 
the  assimilation  of  intellectual  material,  and 
aids  one  in  getting  one  '&  thoughts  into  shape. 

In  short,  to  be  an  intellectual  worker,  by 
no  means  presupposes  as  a  corollary  that  one 
should  be  one-sided.  To-day,  especially,  when 
we  know  so  well  the  relation  of  the  physical 
to  the  moral,  we  would  deserve  to  be  the 
laughing-stock  of  the  ignorant,  if  we  did  not 
know  how  to  take  care  of  our  health.  The 
acquisition  of  data  is  the  least  part  of  a  task ; 
their  choice  and  their  arrangement  are  very 
much  more  important,  but  even  that  does  not 
require  that  one  should  sit  down  all  day.  A 
savant  is  not  the  man  who  knows  the  great- 
est number  of  facts,  but  he  whose  mind  is 
always  active  and  always  in  working  order. 
We  must  not  confuse  science  and  erudition. 
Erudition  too  often  implies  mental  laziness. 
It  is  not  enough  to  have  a  good  memory  to 
be  able  to  create,  but  it  is  necessary  that  the 
mind  should  be  able  to  use  materials  and  not 
merely  be  encumbered  by  them. 

Altho  it  may  be  quite  the  correct  thing  to 
appear  to  be  worn  out  by  reason  of  one's 
work,  and  altho  it  may  apparently  redound 

[240] 


THE  BOLE  OF  ACTION 


to  the  honor  of  our  will,  yet  we  must  recog- 
nize that  we  would  have  the  proof  that  work 
was  the  only  cause  of  our  breakdown.  Such 
a  proof  is  impossible  to  make.  We  would  have 
to  take  into  consideration  all  the  other  causes 
of  fatigue,  and  every  foolish  interruption. 
And,  let  us  say  frankly,  that  one  never  knows 
whether  what  one  attributes  to  work  may  not 
come,  for  instance,  from  sensuality.  I  do  not 
believe  that  either  in  college  or  the  university 
the  young  men  who  are  perfectly  straight 
often  break  down ;  the  only  overstrain  at  this 
age,  alas !  is  that  which  is  caused  by  vicious 
habits. 

The  part  that  this  unfortunate  indulgence 
of  sensuality  plays  in  producing  a  breakdown 
is  this:  it  gives  rise  to  envious  and  jealous 
deceptions,  and  chiefly,  that  it  causes  a  sickly 
exaggerated  sense  of  self-esteem  springing 
from  a  false  idea  of  our  place  in  the  world 
and  an  exaggerated  sense  of  our  own  per- 
sonality. If  one  is  sufficiently  energetic  to 
drive  these  wearing  feelings  out  of  one's 
mind,  one  great  source  of  fatigue  will  be 
thereby  eliminated. 

It  seems  to  us  that  well-ordered  intellectual 

[241] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

work — we  mean,  of  course,  that  which  respects 
the  laws  of  hygiene  appropriate  to  the  life 
and  circumstances  of  the  individual,  for  this 
only  can  lead  to  the  highest  development  of 
thoughts — that  such  work,  freed  from  the 
compromising  bonds  of  sensuality,  happy- 
hearted,  confident  work  without  jealousy  or 
wounded  vanity,  is  eminently  helpful  in  es- 
tablishing health.  If  one  provides  the  atten- 
tion with  uplifting  and  fruitful  ideas,  thought 
elaborates  them  and  organizes  them.  If  one 
allows  impressions  to  furnish  these  materials 
by  chance,  the  fatigue  is  practically  the  same 
as  when  the  will  presides  over  their  choice. 
But  it  is  seldom  that  chance,  that  enemy  of 
our  peace  of  mind,  does  not  bring  with  it  a 
swarm  of  contradictory  thoughts.  In  fact, 
man  lives  in  society  and  he  needs  the  esteem 
and  even  the  eulogy  of  others.  But  as  others 
have  rarely  as  good  an  opinion  of  us  as  we 
have  of  ourselves,  and  as,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  great  many  of  our  fellow  men  lack  tact 
and  even  charity,  it  frequently  happens,  in 
every  walk  in  life,  that  social  relations  are 
full  of  friction.  The  true  worker  will  gather 
fresh  courage  when  he  sees  how  cruelly  the 

[242] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


lazy  pay  for  their  laziness,  because  there 
springs  up  in  their  mind,  as  in  an  unculti- 
vated field,  such  a  host  of  weeds.  They  spend 
their  time  fuming  and  worrying  over  petty 
ideas,  petty  disagreements  and  jealousies 
and  insignificant  ambitions. 

Nothing  is  so  good  for  one's  happiness  as 
to  exchange  preoccupations  for  occupations, 
and  what  is  true  of  one's  happiness  is  true 
of  health.  It  is  so  true  that  work  is  the 
profoundest  joy  of  humanity,  that  whoever 
will  not  obey  this  law  must  renounce  with  it 
all  uplifting  and  lasting  joys. 

We  must  add  to  these  observations,  that 
unmethodical,  scattered  work  is  very  weary- 
ing, and  that  what  often  is  imputed  to  the 
work  itself,  comes  from  work  which  is  merely 
badly  directed.  The  thing  that  wearies  one 
is  the  multiplicity  of  occupations  which  bring 
with  them  none  of  the  joy  of  an  accomplished 
task.  When  the  mind  is  drawn  in  several 
different  directions,  it  always  has  a  sense  of 
dull  uneasiness  during  its  work.  It  is  the 
undertakings  which  are  left  in  a  rough,  un- 
finished state  that  give  rise  to  such  weari- 
some mental  worry.  Michelet  told  M.  de  Gon- 

[243] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

court  that  at  about  thirty  years  of  age  he 
suffered  terribly  from  headaches,  caused  by 
the  number  of  things  that  he  had  to  do,  and 
that  he  resolved  to  read  no  more  books,  but 
to  make  them  instead.  i  i  From  that  day,  when 
I  arose  in  the  morning,"  he  said,  "I  knew 
exactly  what  I  was  going  to  do,  and  as  my 
mind  was  never  fixt  on  more  than  one  object 
at  a  time,  I  was  cured. ' ' 1  Nothing  is  truer 
than  the  fact  that  having  several  different 
kinds  of  work  on  hand  at  one  and  the  same 
time  is  to  court  fatigue.  Age  quod  agis.  Let 
us  do  thoroughly  whatever  we  have  to  do.  Not 
only  is  it  the  best  way  of  getting  up  quickly,  as 
we  have  already  seen,  but  it  is  the  surest  way 
of  avoiding  fatigue  and  of  gathering  a  har- 
vest of  joy  in  work  that  has  been  brought  to 
a  successful  conclusion. 


To  sum  up,  altho  meditation  can  arouse 
powerful  emotions  in  the  mind,  it  can  only 
make  use  of  them  under  the  form  of  habits. 
Therefore,  the  education  of  the  will  is  im- 

i « '  Journal  de  Goncourt,  March  12,  1864. 
[244] 


THE  ROLE  OF  ACTION 


possible  without  the  creation  of  good,  strong- 
ly established  habits,  without  which  we 
should  always  have  to  be  making  the  same 
efforts  over  again.  They  alone  enable  us 
to  maintain  our  conquests  and  to  march  on 
further.  We  now  know  that  it  is  by  action 
alone  that  we  can  create  such  habits. 

By  action,  we  mean  the  courageous  per- 
formance of  every  one  of  those  small  actions 
which  lead  to  a  definite  end.  Action  con- 
firms thought,  and  publicly  announces  which 
side  we  are  on;  it  also  produces  great  pleas- 
ure in  itself. 

Alas!  the  time  of  activity,  which  is  al- 
ready too  short,  is  still  further  diminished  by 
the  student's  lack  of  method  in  his  work;  in 
spite  of  that,  as  we  have  already  said,  "a 
little  is  enough  for  each  day,  if  each  day  ac- 
complishes that  little. "  The  patient  and  in- 
cessant repetition  of  effort  produces  enor- 
mous results:  therefore,  what  the  student 
needs  to  acquire  is  this  habit  of  unceasing 
activity.  In  order  to  accomplish  his  pur- 
pose, he  should  always  lay  out  his  work  for 
the  next  day  the  evening  before.  He  should 
take  advantage  .of  every  helpful  emotion,  fin- 

[245] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

ish  all  work  that  lie  begins,  do  only  one  thing 
at  a  time,  and  be  careful  not  to  waste  a  single 
minute.  With  such  habits,  he  may  aspire  to 
the  noblest  destiny.  They  will,  at  the  same 
time,  put  him  in  a  position  to  pay  back  to 
society  the  debt  of  thanks  for  the  many  bene- 
fits which  he  has  received  from  her  and  for 
which  he  owes  her  recognition. 

Work  conceived  and  undertaken  in  this 
spirit  can  never  lead  to  a  breakdown;  the 
fatigue,  which  is  usually  attributed  to  work, 
is  nearly  always  caused  by  excesses  of  sen- 
suality, by  restless  excitement,  by  egotistical 
emotions  or  by  bad  methods;  and  if  it  be 
true  that  to  be  calm  and  thankful  and  happy 
helps  to  keep  one  well,  such  well-conceived 
work  and  the  habit  of  noble  and  uplifted 
thought  can  not  but  be  beneficial  to  the 
health. 


[246] 


IV 


BODILY   HYGIENE   CONSIDERED   FROM   THE 
POINT  OF  VIEW  OF  THE  STUDENT'S  EDU- 
CATION OF  HIS  WILL 


UNTIL  now  we  have  studied  the  psychologi- 
cal side  of  our  subject.  We  must  now  ex- 
amine the  physiological  conditions  of  self- 
mastery.  The  will  and  its  highest  form  of 
expression,  the  attention,  can  not  be  disas- 
sociated from  a  nervous  system.  If  the  nerve 
centers  become  rapidly  exhausted,  or  if,  when 
once  exhausted,  they  recover  their  vigor  ex- 
tremely slowly,  no  effort  or  perseverance  is 
possible.  Bodily  weakness  is  accompanied 
by  a  weak  will  and  feeble,  wandering  atten- 
tion. 

In  every  kind  of  activity  success  depends 
more  upon  indefatigable  energy  than  upon 
any  other  cause;  the  first  condition  of  all 
success  in  the  conquest  of  self,  is,  to  quote 
a  celebrated  expression,  to  be  "a  healthy 
animal."  Nearly  all  moral  enthusiasm  co- 

[247] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

exists  with  those  thrilling  moments  when  the 
body,  like  a  well- tuned  instrument,  plays  its 
part  without  false  notes  and  without  obtrud- 
ing itself  upon  the  inner  consciousness.  In 
these  moments  of  abandoned  vigor,  our  will 
is  strong  within  us,  and  we  can  hold  our  at- 
tention upon  anything  for  a  long  time.  On 
the  other  hand,  when  we  are  weak  or  ex- 
hausted, we  are  painfully  conscious  of  the 
chains  which  link  our  spirit  to  our  body,  and 
our  will  is  often  defeated  by  reason  of  dis- 
turbances of  a  physiological  nature.  We  re- 
member that  the  natural  recompense  of  all 
work,  which  expends  our  forces  without  ex- 
hausting them,  is  a  feeling  of  well-being  and 
enjoyment,  which  lasts  for  a  considerable 
time.  If  we  are  exhausted  before  we  have 
finished  our  work,  this  pleasant  feeling  of 
power  to  do  things  does  not  come,  but  is 
replaced  by  a  disagreeable  sensation  of 
fatigue  and  disgust ;  to  those  unfortunate 
people  who  have,  for  some  reason,  become 
debilitated,  work  deprived  of  this  keenest  joy, 
which  is  its  natural  reward,  becomes  a  task,  a 
toil  and  a  torment. 
Furthermore,  all  psychologists  agree  upon 

[248] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


the  importance  of  good  physiological  condi- 
tions for  the  memory;  when  an  active  circu- 
lation sends  pure,  well-nourished  blood  flow- 
ing through  the  brain,  memories  and  conse- 
quently habits,  are  promptly  engraven  and 
last  for  a  long  time. 

But  the  power  of  paying  sustained  and 
close  attention,  which  is  such  a  help  to  mem- 
ory, is  not  the  only  reward  which  health 
brings.  It  has  still  further  a  very  great  in- 
fluence upon  one's  happiness.  It  is,  as  we 
have  said,  like  the  figure  which,  placed  be- 
fore the  zeros  of  life,  give  them  their  value. 
The  metaphor  is  a  happy  one.  Voltaire  once 
said  of  Harlay,  who  had  a  charming  wife  and 
every  favor  of  fortune:  "He  has  nothing,  if 
he  cannot  digest." 

Unfortunately,  intellectual  work,  if  it  is 
not  properly  undertaken,  can  be  very  harm- 
ful. If  it  cuts  off  all  bodily  activity,  and  im- 
poses a  sedentary  life  and  seclusion  in  badly 
aired  rooms,  especially  if  it  requires  a  sitting 
posture,  all  these  serious  drawbacks,  to  which 
is  often  added  that  of  an  unhygienic  diet, 
soon  begin  to  have  a  bad  effect  upon  the 
stomach;  digestion  becomes  difficult,  and  as 

[249] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

the  stomach  is  surrounded  by  a  close  network 
of  nerves,  the  reaction  of  the  disturbance  of 
this  organ  upon  the  nervous  system  is  con- 
siderable. After  a  meal  the  head  becomes 
congested,  the  feet  are  apt  to  grow  cold 
easily,  there  is  a  feeling  of  torpor  and  som- 
nolence, which  soon  gives  place  to  nervous 
irritability,  which  is  in  striking  contrast  to 
the  comfort  of  peasants  and  workmen  after 
their  dinner.  This  nervous  condition  grad- 
ually gets  worse,  and  many  brain  workers 
finally  get  to  the  point  where  they  can  no 
longer  control  their  impressions.  Their 
hearts  palpitate  at  the  slightest  opposition, 
and  there  is  a  feeling  of  pressure  in  the 
stomach.  This  is  the  first  stage  of  neuras- 
thenia, for  neurasthenia  nearly  always  has 
some  defective  condition  of  the  functions  of 
nutrition  as  its  point  of  departure.  The  brain 
ceases  to  be  the  chief  regulator,  and  instead 
of  the  calm  and  vigorous  impulses  of  a 
healthy  life,  one  feels  the  irritability  and  de- 
pression of  ill  health. 

However,  the  omnipotence  which  time 
grants  us  in  the  work  of  imastering  our- 
selves is  also  bestowed  upon  us  for  the 

[250] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


purpose  of  changing  our  temperament  and 
fortifying  our  health.  Huxley,  in  a  cele- 
brated passage,  compares  us  to  chess-players. 
We  have  as  a  partner  a  patient  and  pitiless 
adversary,  who  takes  advantage  of  our 
slightest  mistake,  but  who  generously  re- 
wards the  good  players.  This  adversary  is 
Nature,  and  wo  be  to  him  who  does  not 
know  the  rules  of  the  game.  In  studying 
these  rules,  which  are  the  laws  discovered  by 
the  wise,  and  above  all,  in  applying  them,  one 
is  sure  of  winning  high  stakes  which  means 
good  health.  But  it  is  the  same  with  this  con- 
quest of  health  as  it  is  in  the  conquest  of  our 
liberty:  it  is  not  the  result  of  a  fiat,  but 
rather  of  innumerable  little  actions,  which 
one  performs  a  hundred  times  a  month  or 
which  one  wilfully  neglects.  One  must  bring 
one's  attention  to  bear  on  a  great  many  dif- 
ferent points  and  learn  to  put  the  proper 
value  upon  each  detail.  One  must  watch  the 
weather  to  see  if  it  is  warm  or  cold  or  damp. 
One  must  take  care  that  the  atmosphere  is 
pure,  one  must  see  that  one  works  in  a  good 
light,  and  must  look  out  for  the  quality  of 
one's  meals,  and  must  remember  to  take  suffi- 

[251] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

cient  exercise.  ' '  But, ' '  it  may  be  argued, ' '  so 
much  fuss  about  one's  self  would  make 
life  ridiculous  and  would  take  all  one's  time." 
Pure  sophism!  Such  care  of  one's  body  be- 
comes a  matter  of  habit.  It  takes  no  more 
time  to  eat  carefully  and  obey  the  rules  of 
digestion,  than  it  does  to  eat  poor  food  care- 
lessly. It  requires  no  more  time  to  take  a 
little  walk  for  one's  digestion  than  it  does 
to  accomplish  that  function  badly  by  lying 
at  ease  upon  the  sofa  or  lingering  lazily  to 
read  the  papers  at  the  club.  There  is  no 
appreciable  time  lost  in  occasionally  chang- 
ing the  air  in  one's  study.  It  is  enough  to 
settle  once  for  all  upon  such  modifications 
as  one  may  require  in  his  regime  of  life.  The 
only  thing  that  could  possibly  prevent  one 
from  acting  in  a  sensible  way,  is  laziness, 
that  intellectual  laziness  that  will  not  look 
ahead,  and  the  physical  laziness  that  will  not 
carry  out  a  plan. 

Here  again  the  recompense  will  be  health, 
that  is  to  say,  the  condition  of  all  the  rest,  of 
success  as  well  as  of  happiness. 

The  functions  to  which  we  should  pay  the 
closest  attention  are  the  functions  of  nutri- 

[252] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


tion.  It  it  a  very  important  question  to 
know  the  nature  and  the  amount  of  food 
which  one  should  eat  daily.  Before  the  works 
of  Berthelot  appeared,  the  subject  of  alimen- 
tation was  treated  empirically.  To-day,  the 
problem  presents  itself  in  a  very  distinct 
form.  One  actually  knows  that  none  of  the 
fats  or  carbohydrates  take  the  place  of  al- 
bumin in  building  up  the  tissues.  Albumin 
is  therefore  necessary  to  alimentation.  But 
on  the  other  hand,  if  instead  of  merely  sup- 
plying a  sufficient  quantity  of  albumin,  one 
gives  more  than  is  necessary,  a  curious  re- 
sult is  obtained.  The  excess  allowance 
causes,  to  the  detriment  of  our  organs,  a  pre- 
cipitation of  albumin  that  is  much  greater 
than  the  amount  of  albumin  taken  in.1  If  one 
eats  about  seventy-five  grams  of  nitrogenous 
food  every  day,  that  is  enough.  All  that  is 
taken  in  above  this  weight,  instead  of  being 
assimilated,  tends  to  cause  a  precipitation  of 
albumin  of  the  muscles.  Here,  then,  is  the 
first  thing  to  remember:  the  student  eats  in 
his  restaurants  two  or  three  times  as  much 
meat  as  it  is  necessary  for  him  to  eat. 

i  Compare  G.  See,  "  Formulaire  alimentaire, ' '  1893. 
[253] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

Further,  whatever  may  be  the  amount  of 
albumin  ingested,  if  we  do  not  at  the  same 
time  take  in  fats  or  carbohydrates,  the  albu- 
min will  be  precipitated;  but  the  precipita- 
tion stops  if  the  contrary  is  the  case.  Hence 
these  food  elements,  when  they  are  combined 
with  the  seventy-five  grams 1  of  albumin,  are 
called  "a  balanced  nitrogenous  ration. " 

Work  is  the  prime  cause  of  the  decompo- 
sition of  the  fats  and  starches.  We  know 
that  a  man  must  expend  daily  from  2,800  to 
3,400  calories  if  he  works  hard.2  Seventy-five 
grams  of  albumin  give  307  calories,  and  con- 
sidering 300  calories  as  the  highest  average, 
the  intellectual  worker  must  find  about  2,700 
calories.  As  he  can  scarcely  assimilate  more 
than  200-250  grams  of  fats  (225  x  9.3  =  2,092 
calories),  he  must  therefore  get  about  600 
calories  from  carbohydrate  foods  (about  150 
grams).  One  only  needs  to  look  up  in  the 
special  books  written  on  the  subject  the  value 
of  each  food  in  albumin,  fats  and  carbohy- 
drates in  order  to  choose  his  food  for  the  day. 

1 1  gram=15  grains     100  grams— about  3  oz. 
2  1  gram  albumin  gives  4.1   calories.    1   gram  fat  gives 
9.3  calories.     1  gram  carbohydrate  gives  4.1  calories. 

[254] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


The  conclusion  which  is  forced  upon  us 
from  experience  is  that  we  eat  too  much,  es- 
pecially of  meat.  We  require  the  stomach 
and  the  intestines  to  perform  a  ridiculous 
amount  of  work.  In  the  majority  of  people 
in  comfortable  circumstances,  the  greater 
part  of  the  force  acquired  by  the  labor  of 
digestion  is  used  to  digest.  Do  not  imagine 
that  we  have  exaggerated  this.  During  the 
act  of  digestion  we  would,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  digest  the  walls  of  the  stomach  and  the 
intestines  if  their  surfaces  did  not  constantly 
renew  the  tissue  which  protects  them,  and 
which  is  very  rapidly  formed  anew  as  fast 
as  the  digestive  secretions  attack  them.  This 
work  alone  is  enormous.  The  intestines  are 
seven  or  eight  times  as  long  as  the  body,  and 
average  thirty  centimeters  around.  The 
working  surface  of  the  intestines  and  the 
stomach  is  therefore  at  least  five  meters 
square.  Add  to  the  considerable  labor  of 
this  incessant  renewal  for  several  hours  each 
day  of  the  papillae  which  line  such  a  surface, 
the  force  used  in  chewing,  the  force  required 
by  the  peristaltic  movements  of  the  stomach, 
by  the  formation  of  a  considerable  quantity 

[255] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

of  saliva,  by  the  production  of  the  digestive 
secretions  of  the  stomach  and  pancreas  and 
gall-bladder,  and  one  will  begin  to  get  an 
idea  of  the  prodigious  expenditure  of  force 
which  the  act  of  digestion  necessitates. 

It  is  therefore  very  clear  that  men  who  eat 
too  much  are  reduced  to  playing  the  not  very 
honorable  role  of  slaves  to  their  digestive 
tract.  Eemember,  also,  that  the  majority 
find  it  too  much  trouble  to  chew  such  a  quan- 
tity of  food  thoroughly,  and  that  they  there- 
by still  further  increase  and  prolong  the 
labor  of  digestion,  for  the  digestive  secretions 
penetrate  very  slowly  through  masses  which 
are  not  thoroughly  masticated. 

How  useful  a  little  pamphlet  would  be 
showing  what  proportion  of  albuminous, 
fatty  or  assimilable  carbohydrate  elements 
are  to  be  found  in  each  food!  Certain  spe- 
cialized articles  give  the  proportion  in  nutri- 
tious elements;  therefore,  we  know  to-day 
that  many  of  the  nitrogenous  compounds  are 
not,  properly  speaking,  foods  that  will  repair 
the  tissues.  With  such  a  table,  the  student 
could  prepare  his  menu  with  the  double  idea 
of  obtaining  good  nourishment  and  of  avoid- 

[256] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


ing  the  imposition  of  any  extra  work  upon 
his  digestive  organs  which  would  be  detri- 
mental to  his  intellectual  work. 

The  question  of  the  number  of  meals  and 
the  time  at  which  they  should  be  taken  seems 
to  be  of  small  importance  beside  this  of  the 
proportion  of  food  elements.  Not  that  we 
expect  the  student  to  weigh  every  dish  as 
Cornaro  did,  but,  after  weighing  several,  he 
would  begin  to  get  a  little  better  idea  of  what 
he  ought  to  eat,  and  he  would  at  least  avoid 
the  enormous  waste  of  force  which  is  ex- 
pended by  the  young  man  who  frequents  the 
restaurants,  and  who,  surrounded  by  noise 
and  conversation  and  discussions,  eats  to  the 
very  limit  of  his  capacity.1 

iWe  can  not  leave  this  subject  without  speaking  of  the 
use  of  coffee.  It  ought  by  no  means  to  be  proscribed.  Taken 
in  a  large  quantity  and  prepared  by  the  filtration  method, 
which  draws  out  all  its  strength,  it  is  enervating.  Prepared 
according  to  the  custom  of  the  Arabs,  that  is  infused,  and 
taken  in  small  cups,  it  is  less  irritating,  and  furnishes  a 
useful  aid  to  the  work  of  digestion.  Even  between  meals, 
as,  for  instance,  in  the  morning,  a  small  quantity  will  dissi- 
pate that  dulness  of  thought  of  which  so  many  workers 
complain,  and  will  stimulate  the  intellect  to  quicker  work. 
On  the  condition  that  the  use  of  coffee  is  not  abused,  and 
that,  on  the  other  hand,  one  takes  advantage  of  its  excita- 
tion to  get  to  work,  there  is  no  harm  in  using  it. 

[257] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

The  hygiene  of  respiration  is  more  simple. 
It  hardly  seems  necessary  to  state  that  one 
should  breathe  pure  air ;  but  how  many  times 
have  I  seen  young  men  prefer  to  breathe  close, 
vitiated  air,  rather  than  let  in  a  little  cold 
along  with  the  fresh  air.  The  hygiene  of  build- 
ings devoted  to  education  and  of  students' 
dwellings  is  still  in  a  very  primitive  state  in 
regard  to  this  matter.  It  has,  however,  been 
demonstrated  that  bad  air  makes  one  rest- 
less, irritable,  and  discontented.  The  or- 
ganism, not  having  the  healthy  stimulation 
whicl;  pure  air  gives  it,  is  tempted  to  seek 
vicious  stimulations.  The  student  is  not  ob- 
liged to  breathe  the  same  air  over  and  over 
again  in  his  room,  he  can  air  it  often — or, 
what  is  still  better,  he  can  work  in  the  open 
air — or,  still  further,  he  can  walk  up  and 
down  in  his  room  and  read  or  speak  out  loud. 
Deaf  mutes,  who  never  have  the  exercise  of 
speaking,  have  very  weak  lungs.  They  are 
hardly  able  to  blow  out  a  candle  placed  a  few 
centimeters  from  their  mouth.  Speech  is  an 
active  exercise  for  the  lungs. 

We  must  also  call  attention  to  the  fact 
that  a  stooping  attitude  while  writing  or  read- 

[258] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


ing  is  very  restricting  to  the  respiratory 
movements,  and  that  it  may,  in  the  long  run, 
become  very  harmful.  As  a  means  of  strug- 
gling against  this  cause  of  weakness,  it  is  a 
good  plan  to  form  the  habit  of  sitting  up 
very  straight  and  throwing  out  the  chest,  so 
as  to  allow  perfect  freedom  to  the  respiratory 
movements. 

Nevertheless,  these  precautions  are  not 
enough,  and  it  is  very  important  to  stop  work 
frequently  and  to  get  up  and  go  though  a 
few  of  those  excellent  exercises  which  M.  La- 
grange  has  called  "respiratory  gymnastics. " 
These  exercises  consist  of  drawing  in  deep 
breaths  like  those  which  we  instinctively  make 
in  the  morning  when  we  stretch  ourselves. 
The  two  arms  are  raised  very  slowly  and  then 
held  outstretched,  while  the  breath  is  drawn 
in  as  deeply  as  possible,  when  they  are  low- 
ered while  the  breath  is  slowly  expelled.  In 
the  same  way  it  is  useful,  while  lifting  the 
arms,  to  raise  one's  self  on  tiptoe,  as  if  try- 
ing to  make  one's  self  taller.  This  operation 
tends  to  straighten  any  curvatures  in  the  spi- 
nal column,  while  at  the  same  time  it  per- 
mits the  ribs  to  stretch  apart  and  describe  a 

[259] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

much  longer  arc  of  the  circle  than  they  usu- 
ally make.  Furthermore,  this  exercise  pre- 
vents ankylosis  of  the  ribs.  It,  as  it  were, 
"shakes  out"  or  unfolds  a  great  many  col- 
lapsed pulmonary  vesicles,  to  which  oxygen 
does  not  penetrate.  The  surface  which  ef- 
fects an  exchange  between  the  blood  and  the 
air  is  increased.  Marey  has  observed  that 
the  rhythm  of  respiration  remains  modified 
even  in  repose  after  such  exercises.  We  must 
point  out  that  the  use  of  dumb-bells  for  this 
purpose  is  contra-indicated,  because  no  effort 
is  possible  without  some  arrest  of  respira- 
tion. 

These  precautions,  altho  they  are  very 
good,  are,  nevertheless,  only  palliative,  and 
can  never  take  the  place  of  real  exercise. 

It  is  evident  that  exercise  does  not  of  itself 
create  anything,  but  it  acts  indirectly  by  im- 
proving the  general  tone  of  all  the  functions 
of  nutrition. 

Altho  the  respiratory  capacity,  as  we  have 
just  seen,  may  be  increased  by  exercises  in 
one's  room,  to  which  one  can  have  recourse 
from  time  to  time,  yet  these  exercises  will  not 
make  the  blood  circulate  more  rapidly  nor 

[260] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


pass  more  frequently  through  the  lungs.  The 
respiratory  function  and  the  circulatory 
function  are  in  some  ways  the  same  function, 
seen  from  two  points  of  view.  All  activity 
on  the  part  of  one  acts  upon  the  other.  La- 
voisier, in  a  communication  to  the  Academy 
of  Sciences  (1789),  called  attention  to  the 
fact,  that  a  man  fasting,  after  muscular  work, 
assimilated  nearly  three  times  as  much  oxy- 
gen as  following  a  rest.  Consequently,  the 
first  effect  of  exercise  is  to  enable  a  consid- 
erable quantity  of  oxygen  to  penetrate  the 
body.  While  the  student,  who  is  naturally 
sedentary,  lives  a  less  vital  sort  of  life,  he 
who  exercises  a  greal  deal  in  the  open  air 
approaches  his  work  with  richer  blood  and 
more  active  respiration.  The  brain  is  ca- 
pable of  more  energetic  and  more  prolonged 
work.  The  work  of  the  heart  itself  is  dimin- 
ished by  its  slower  beat,  for,  while  sitting 
still  tends  to  make  the  blood  flow  sluggishly 
in  the  capillaries,  such  sluggishness  is  ac- 
companied by  a  retardation  of  vital  combus- 
tion ;  but  with  exercise,  by  a  mutual  reaction, 
the  circulation  is  stimulated  in  the  capillaries 
by  the  activity  of  the  muscles  and  the  per- 

[261] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

ipheral  heart,  and  reduces  by  its  own  work 
the  work  of  the  central  organ. 

But  these  are  not  the  only  benefits  of  mus- 
cular activity,  for  the  muscles,  as  Paul  Bert 
has  shown,  are  oxygen-fixing  agents.  They 
are,  properly  speaking,  respiratory  organs; 
an  extremely  important  interchange  of  the 
oxygen  that  is  breathed  in,  and  of  the  car- 
bonic acid  gas  that  is  to  be  eliminated,  takes 
place  in  them.  Therefore,  the  more  energetic 
the  exchange,  the  more  energetic  also  is  the 
combustion  of  the  fats  of  alimentation.  Sit- 
ting still  because  it  does  not  "burn  up"  the 
reserve  fats,  permits  them  to  be  deposited 
everywhere,  and  leads  directly  to  obesity. 
These  deposits  are,  however,  not  the  only 
inconveniences  of  such  bodily  laziness,  for  it 
seems  to  be  proven  true  that  arthritis,  gout, 
gravel,  and  bad  breath  have  for  their  essen- 
tial cause  the  products  of  incomplete  combus- 
tion, due  to  deficiently  energetic  respiration. 
Further,  this  very  important  respiration  of 
the  muscles  does  not  only  last  during  work; 
the  organs  preserve  a  respiratory  superac- 
tivity  for  a  long  time. 

It  must  also  be  noted,  that  exercise  is  ab- 

[262] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


solutely  indispensable  for  the  majority  of 
young  people  in  good  circumstances,  who,  as 
a  rule,  eat  too  much.  Exercise,  even  violent 
exercise,  is  useful  for  them  to  burn  the  ex- 
cess of  ingested  materials.  If  one  eats  a 
great  deal  and  leads  an  inactive  life,  all  the 
vessels  which  receive  the  chyle  become  con- 
gested. A  sense  of  discomfort  and  aversion 
for  food  are  frequently  felt,  especially  in  the 
morning,  when  the  night's  rest  has  aggra- 
vated this  state  of  over-nutrition.  The  stom- 
ach then  becomes  lazy  and  the  blood  is  lit- 
erally "  thickened ;"  that  is  to  say,  overbur- 
dened with  materials  which  must  be  burnt. 
There  is  a  peculiar  condition  which  seems 
paradoxical  that  is  often  felt  on  waking:  I 
mean  the  lassitude  and  torpor  and  mental  in- 
dolence which  comes  from  the  accumulation 
of  such  residues.  There  is  a  crucial  proof 
that  this  excess  is  undoubtedly  the  origin  of 
such  lassitude  in  the  fact  that  if  one  has  the 
courage  resolutely  to  set  one's  self  to  work, 
it  will  diminish  as  soon  as  fatigue  begins  to 
be  felt;  that  is  to  say,  as  soon  as  the  excess 
of  the  accumulated  materials  in  the  blood 
diminish  through  oxidation. 

[263] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

To  sum  up,  exercise  provokes  an  active  and 
energetic  work  of  assimilation,  a  quickened 
movement  of  rich  blood,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  rapid  elimination  of  the  products  of 
catabolism. 

Beyond  mentioning  its  general  effect  on  the 
health,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  call  atten- 
tion to  the  very  beneficial  effects  of  walking 
on  the  peristaltic  movements  of  the  stomach.1 


II 

We  have  hitherto  considered  the  value  of 
exercise  only  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
functions  of  nutrition.  This  is  the  point  of 
view  most  essential  to  our  subject,  as  the  will 
and  the  attention  are  so  intimately  dependent 
on  the  state  of  our  health.  Muscular  exercise 

i  As  the  usual  attitude  of  the  student  is  either  in  a  sit- 
ting or  standing  position,  the  muscles  which  surround  the 
abdominal  viscera  are  generally  in  a  state  of  relaxation. 
Their  inactivity  leaves  them  without  any  defense  against 
the  fatty  deposits  which  increase  the  size  of  the  abdomen, 
and  still  further  they  are  no  longer  able  to  hold  the  stomach 
firmly  in  position,  but  allow  it  to  dilate.  M.  Lagrange,  in 
his  admirable  book,  points  out  the  effect  that  Swedish  gym- 
nastics have  in  correcting  this  state  of  things. 

[264] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


has,  however,  other  relations  which  are  less 
important,  but  much  more  intimately  con- 
nected with  the  will.  In  fact,  it  is  by  muscu- 
lar acts  that  the  will  begins  to  make  its  first 
timid  advances  in  the  child.  The  long  ap- 
prenticeship necessary  for  each  one  of  us 
before  we  can  learn  control  of  our  move- 
ments, strengthens  our  will  and  disciplines 
our  attention.  Which  of  us  has  not  been 
overcome  by  the  feeling,  perhaps  is  suffering 
from  it  at  this  very  moment  during  a  fit  of 
utter  laziness,  that  to  make  any  especial 
movement,  such  as  to  get  up  or  go  out,  etc , 
would  require  a  very  great  effort  of  the  will  ? 
And  who,  therefore,  consequently  can  deny 
that  muscular  activity,  or  better,  quick  defi- 
nite movements  (for  walking  soon  becomes 
purely  automatic  and  has  no  value  from  this 
point  of  view)  are  not  an  excellent  discipline 
for  the  will  and  the  attention.  This  is  so 
true,  that  muscular  exercise  is  prescribed  for 
neuropathic  patients,  who  are  incapable  of 
fixing  their  attention.  An  effort  implies  an 
act  of  will,  and  the  will  develops,  as  do  all  our 
faculties,  by  repetition.  Furthermore,  mus- 
cular work  becomes  slightly  painful  as  soon 

[265;] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

as  fatigue  appears,  and  to  be  able  to  bear 
pain  is  one  of  the  highest  forms  of  the  will. 

It  is,  therefore,  evident  that  exercise  is  di- 
rectly and  of  itself  like  a  primary  school  for 
the  will. 

Does  this  mean  that  it  has  no  influence 
on  the  intelligence?  Not  at  all!  It  has  a 
very  real  influence.  When  we  are  in  the 
throes  of  an  attack  of  bodily  laziness,  our 
perceptions  are  scarcely  awake;  we  obsti- 
nately stay  at  home  and  wrap  ourselves  in 
our  gloomy,  dreary  feelings.  We  are  bored 
and  disgusted.  Now  this  very  unpleasant 
state  of  existence,  of  which  we  have  all  had 
some  experience,  only  comes  when  the  phy- 
sical life  is  low  in  tone,  and  when  ideas  are 
hard  to  arouse  in  the  absence  of  outside  ex- 
citement. Such  a  state  contrasts  sharply 
with  the  clearness  of  our  ideas  and  the  ex- 
ceeding vividness  and  richness  of  the  impres- 
sions which  come  to  us  when  we  meditate 
while  walking  in  the  country.  One  can  not, 
therefore,  deny  the  great  influence  of  exer- 
cise on  our  faculties. 


[266] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


•III 

The  student  ought,  however,  to  look  atten- 
tively at  the  egregious  errors  which  are  prev- 
alent, concerning  this  physical  exercise  whose 
benefits  we  have  been  extolling.  Health  and 
muscular  strength,  which  are  two  very  dif- 
ferent things,  are  often  mistaken  one  for  an- 
other. The  essential  thing  in  good  health  is 
vigor  of  the  respiratory  organs  and  the  di- 
gestive apparatus.  To  be  well  means  to 
digest  well,  to  breathe  deeply,  and  to  have  a 
strong,  energetic  circulation;  furthermore,  it 
includes  the  ability  to  stand  variations  in 
temperature  without  taking  cold.  But  these 
qualities  of  resistance  are  in  no  way  depend- 
ent upon  muscular  strength.  A  man  may  be 
an  athlete  in  a  circus,  or  able  to  do  the  heav- 
iest porter  work,  and  yet  have  very  poor 
health,  while  another  man  who  lives  in  his 
study  may  have  an  iron  constitution  with 
mediocre  muscular  power.  Not  only  have  we 
no  reason  to  aspire  to  athletic  strength,  but 
rather  we  ought  to  avoid  it;  because  it  can 
only  be  developed  by  violent  exercise  and 

[267] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

such  exercises  not  only  interfere  with  the  reg- 
ularity of  the  respiration  and  cause  very  dis- 
tinct congestion  in  the  veins  of  the  neck  and 
brow,  but  they  are  undoubtedly  weakening 
and  exhausting.  For  it  is  impossible  to  put 
forth  intense  physical  efforts  and  at  the  same 
time  be  capable  of  energetic  mental  efforts. 
Still  further,  the  exhaustion  brought  on  by 
these  efforts  predisposes  the  body  to  chills, 
such  as  are  frequent  among  peasants  and 
dwellers  in  the  mountains. 

To  this  we  must  add  the  fact  that  violent 
exercise  is  only  useful  when  it  is  necessary 
to  burn  those  nutritive  reserves  that  come 
from  overeating.  Now,  the  worker  who  uses 
his  attention  energetically  consumes  as  much 
and  perhaps  more  material  than  the  peasant 
who  tills  the  earth,  so  that  no  student, 
worthy  of  the  name,  can  be  compared  to  the 
clerk  sitting  at  his  desk  and  performing  the 
same  task  day  in  and  day  out,  and  whose  in- 
telligence is  as  lazy  as  his  body.  The  more 
one  works  intellectually,  the  less  one  has  need 
of  excessive  muscular  exercise,  in  order  to 
burn  up  the  excess  of  unused  materials. 

It  is  curious  how,  in  France,  we  praise  the 

[268] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


athletic  education  which  the  young  people  in 
England  receive,  and  admire  it  with  that  ut- 
ter lack  of  discernment  and  total  absence  of 
scientific  spirit  which  characterizes  most  pub- 
lic opinion.  We  seem  to  be  dazzled  by  those 
great  colleges  where  the  board  alone  amounts 
to  $1,000  a  year,  and  by  the  amateur  perfor- 
mances of  the  enormously  rich  sons  of  lords 
who  attend  these  universities.  We  do  not 
perceive  that  they  are  in  the  minority  just 
as  men  of  sport  are  in  the  minority  with  us. 
Intelligent  Englishmen  look  disapprovingly 
upon  this  exaggeration  of  physical  exercise 
in  English  schools.  Wilkie  Collins,  in  his 
preface  to  "Husband  and  Wife,"  written  in 
1871,  shows  an  unfortunate  development  of 
coarseness  and  brutality  in  English  society; 
and  holds  that  the  abuse  of  physical  exer- 
cises has  contributed  largely  to  this  condi- 
tion. Matthew  Arnold,  whose  impartiality 
no  one  would  doubt,  envies  the  French  sys- 
tem of  education.  What,  according  to  him, 
characterizes  barbarian  and  Philistine,  is 
that  the  first  care  only  for  social  rank,  for 
whatever  satisfies  their  vanity,  and  for 
bodily  exercise,  sport,  and  noisy  pleasures, 

[269] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

and  that  the  second  appreciate  nothing  but 
the  excitement  and  bustle  of  business,  the  art 
of  making  money,  their  own  comfort,  and 
idle  gossip.  Therefore,  according  to  his  point 
of  view,  English  education  tends  to  increase 
the  number  of  Philistines  and  barbarians. 
He  very  solemnly  states  "that  purely  intel- 
lectual workers  are  as  moral  as  the  pure 
athlete,  but  he  should  have  added  that  in  the 
Greek  gymnasiums  where  physical  exercise 
was  most  highly  honored,  it  was  considered 
highly  dishonorable  to  indulge  the  passions. 
There  is  no  intellectual  worker  among  us  who 
can  not  draw  upon  his  own  experience.  We 
know  that  our  capital  of  strength  is  not  di- 
vided in  two  compartments  by  air-tight  par- 
titions, the  compartment  of  cerebral  forces 
and  that  of  physical  forces.  All  that  we 
spend  in  excess  in  violent  exercise  is  lost  for 
mental  work.  If  an  imbecile,  incapable  of  re- 
flection, wants  to  stuff  himself  with  food  and 
wine,  and  then  spend  all  the  strength  that 
remains  from  his  digestion  in  fatiguing  ex- 
ercises, and  if  he  contemplates  his  bulging 
muscles  with  pride,  we  do  not  see  anything 
out  of  the  way,  but  to  propose  such  a  life  to 

[270] 


BODILY  HYGIENES 


our  future  physicians  and  lawyers,  our  phil- 
osophers and  our  literary  men,  is  nonsense. 
The  great  victories  of  humanity  have  never 
been  gained  with  the  muscles ;  they  have  been 
won  by  discoveries,  by  noble  feelings,  and 
living  ideas;  and  we  would  exchange  the 
muscles  of  500  day  laborers,  or  rather  the 
perfectly  useless  muscles  of  all  sporting  men, 
for  the  powerful  intelligence  of  a  Pasteur,  an 
Ampere  or  a  Malebranche.  Besides,  the  best 
trained  men  could  never  win  a  race  against 
a  horse  nor  even  a  dog;  and  a  gorilla  would 
not  have  the  slightest  fear  of  struggling  with 
an  athletic  Hercules.  Our  superiority,  there- 
fore, does  not  lie  in  the  weight  of  our  mus- 
cles. As  a  proof  of  this,  we  have  the  fact 
that  man  has  domesticated  the  most  power- 
ful animals,  and  that  he  cages  tigers  and  lions 
to  delight  children  who  play  in  the  public 
parks. 

It  is  very  apparent  that  the  role  of  muscu- 
lar strength  must  diminish  day  by  day  be- 
cause the  intelligence  has  replaced  it  by 
forces  which  are  incomparably  more  power- 
ful, viz. :  machines.  On  the  other  hand  it  will 
be  the  fate  of  men,  whose  power  Hes  in  their 

[271] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

muscles,  to  be  themselves  treated  more  and 
more  like  machines.  They  are  the  docile  in- 
struments in  the  hands  of  those  who  think. 
An  overseer  who  does  not  work  directs  the 
workmen,  and  the  overseers  are  in  their  turn 
directed  by  an  engineer  whose  hands  bear 
no  traces  of  work. 

To  sum  up,  the  movement  on  foot  to  make 
athletes  of  our  children  is  absurd.  It  rests 
on  this  confusion  which  exists  between  health 
and  muscular  strength.  It  tends  to  make  our 
young  men  rough  and  restless,  to  the  detri- 
ment of  their  intellectual  power.  Between 
the  men  who  excel  in  debate,  and  those  who 
excel  in  boxing,  our  choice  does  not  hesitate 
for  a  moment.  Do  not  let  us  consider  this 
tendency  to  lead  us  on  to  develop  our  animal 
strength  as  a  sign  of  progress.  Putting  one 
excess  against  the  other,  I  would  prefer  those 
of  the  old  schools  which  have  given  us  Saint 
Thomas  Aquinas,  Montaigne,  and  Eabelais  to 
those  of  the  schools  which  give  us  champion 
oarsmen. 

Frankly,  if  the  flattery  to  their  foolish 
vanity  was  taken  away  (foolish,  because  what 
is  there  to  be  vain  about  in  possessing  su- 

[272] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


perior  forces  that  are  inferior  to  those  of 
many  animals?),  how  many  students  would 
be  willing  to  undergo  the  necessary  fatigue 
to  prepare  for  a  rowing  contest.  We  have 
come  to  the  conclusion,  therefore,  that  it  is 
not  England  with  her  violent  system  of  ex- 
ercise which  we  ought  to  imitate  in  this  con- 
nection, but  rather  Sweden  who  has  com- 
pletely given  up  such  ruinous  physical  efforts 
for  young  people  in  her  schools.  There  the 
object  is  to  make  young  people  strong  and 
healthy,  and  they  have  perceived,  that  exces- 
sive physical  exercises  are  more  sure  to  lead 
to  a  breakdown  than  excessive  study.  It  is 
therefore  evident  from  what  has  gone  before, 
that  in  the  choice  of  exercises  to  be  recom- 
mended to  students,  one  absolute  rule  ought 
to  be  observed:  these  exercises  ought  not 
to  be  exhausting  nor  even  go  to  the  point  of 
excessive  fatigue. 


[273] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 


JY 

If  so  many  errors  and  so  many  prejudices 
are  current  concerning  physical  exercise,  the 
mistakes  which  are  generally  made,  concern- 
ing intellectual  work,  are  no  less  serious.  It 
is  always  taken  for  granted  that  it  is  seden- 
tary work.  As  we  have  said,  the  idea  of 
intellectual  work  immediately  calls  up  the 
picture  of  a  man  sitting  with  his  head  in  his 
hands  meditating,  or  his  chest  bowed  over 
a  table,  writing.  We  repeat,  no  idea  is  more 
false;  the  preliminary  work  can,  it  is  true, 
only  be  done  at  one's  work-table.  In  order 
to  translate,  one  must  have  a  grammar  and 
dictionary;  when  reading,  one  must  concen- 
trate the  attention  and  fix  certain  memories 
in  the  mind  by  taking  notes,  and  jotting 
down  on  paper  the  suggestions  called  forth 
by  the  author. 

But  once  this  first  part  of  the  work  is  done, 
all  the  work  of  memory  properly  so  called, 
can  not  only  be  accomplished  out  of  doors, 
but  will  gain  much  from  being  performed  in 
the  open  country  or  in  a  park.  Furthermore, 

[274] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


the  work  of  memory  and  meditation  and 
thinking  over  the  plan  for  working  up  one's 
material,  are  all  considerably  facilitated  by 
working  in  the  open  air.  I  confess,  for  my 
own  part,  that  all  the  new  ideas  which  have 
ever  blest  me  by  their  appearance,  have  come 
to  me  during  my  walks.  The  Mediterranean, 
the  Alps,  or  the  forests  of  Loraine  form  the 
background  of  all  my  conceptions.  And  if 
it  is  true,  as  Herbert  Spencer,1  whom  no  one 
could  ever  suspect  of  laziness,  states,  "that 
the  organization  of  knowledge  is  much  more 
important  than  its  acquisition, ' '  and  if,  as  he 
said,  "two  things  are  necessary  for  this  or- 
ganization, time  and  the  spontaneous  work 
of  thought, "  I  maintain  that  this  organiza- 
tion is  never  so  vigorous  as  in  the  open  coun- 
try. Quidquid  conficio  aut  cogito,  in  ambula- 
tionis  fere  tempus  confer  of  The  movement 
of  walking,  the  active  circulation  of  the  blood, 
the  pure,  crisp  air,  which  invigorates  the  body 
by  its  abundant  supply  of  oxygen,  gives  a 
vigor  and  spontaneity  to  thought,  which  it 
rarely  has  in  sedentary  work.  Mill  relates  in 

1  Education.    F.  Alcan.    Paris,  p.  294. 

2  Cicero,  Ad  Quintil,  Chap.  III. 

[275] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

his  "Memoirs,"  that  he  composed  a  large 
part  of  his  Logic,  while  walking  to  and  fro 
between  his  office  and  the  East  Indian  Com- 
pany. So  true  it  is,  that  constructive  work 
may  be  carried  on  to  a  large  extent  in  the 
open  air  and  sunlight. 


Now  that  we  have  discus t  the  subject  of 
exercise,  it  remains  for  us  to  speak  of  rest. 
Best  is  not  laziness.  And  still  further,  lazi- 
ness is  incompatible  with  rest.  Best,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  implies  previous  work,  and 
if  not  fatigue,  at  least  the  need  of  recupera- 
tion. No  lazy  man  ever  tastes  the  joys  of 
well-earned  rest,  for  if,  as  Pascal  has  said, 
it  is  a  pleasure  to  be  cold  when  one  can  warm 
one's  self,  then  it  is  a  pleasure  to  work  when 
one  can  rest  after  it.  Best  that  has  not  been 
made  necessary  by  work  is  nothing  but  idle- 
ness and  brings  with  it  intolerable  boredom 
and  ennui.  As  Buskin  has  said,  the  most 
glorious  rest  is  that  of  the  chamois,  crouched 
breathless  on  his  granite  bed,  and  not  that 
of  the  ox  in  the  stable  munching  its  fodder. 

[276] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


The  best  of  all  rest  is  sleep.  When  it  is 
calm  and  profound,  it  brings  complete  resto- 
ration of  energy.  A  little  while  after  wa- 
king, one  feels  a  sense  of  well-being  and  up- 
springing  energy  for  the  day's  work.  Un- 
fortunately, the  question  of  sleep  is  one  of 
those  most  burdened  with  false  ideas.  With 
their  mania  for  laying  down  set  rules  for 
everything,  and  an  authority  which  is  all  the 
more  laughable,  because  their  science  is  noth- 
ing but  a  mass  of  empirical  laws,  the 
hygienists  limit  the  time  required  for  sleep 
to  six  or  seven  hours.  The  only  rule  admitta- 
ble  here  is  a  very  general  one,  to  have  sense 
enough  not  to  go  to  bed  too  late  and  to  jump 
out  of  bed  as  soon  as  one  wakes  in  the 
morning. 

We  say  not  to  go  to  bed  too  late,  because 
work  that  is  prolonged  until  midnight  is 
wholly  to  be  condemned.  It  is  a  fact,  that 
the  temperature  of  the  blood  begins  to  lower 
toward  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and 
that  the  blood  has  a  tendency  to  become 
loaded  with  the  products  of  catabolism 
toward  night.  Intellectual  effort  is  never 
very  strong  at  this  hour,  and  if  it  seems  to 

[277] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

be  in  better  form  than  it  is  in  the  daytime, 
I  am  very  much  afraid  that  it  is  because  the 
tired  mind  is  too  easily  contented  with  the 
mediocre  quality  of  the  work,  which  appears 
to  be  so  brilliant. 

Furthermore,  intense  mental  application  at 
night  is  fatal  to  sleep  and  causes  excitement 
which  is  apt  to  make  one's  rest  wholly  insuf- 
ficient. One  can  work  one's  self  up  into  a 
sort  of  fever,  at  the  time  when  everything 
should  conduce  to  sleep ;  but  what  bad  judg- 
ment that  shows !  The  brain  is  merely  over- 
taxed by  mediocre  work  and  the  vigor  and 
freshness  of  thought  for  the  next  day  is 
spoiled.  The  most  certain  result  of  this  ab- 
surd perversion  of  natural  laws  is  increased 
irritability.  All  material  work  should  be 
saved  for  the  evening,  such  as  making  pencil 
notes  in  books,  which  one  will  read  through 
again,  or  looking  up  passages  to  quote,  or 
references. 

As  to  work  in  the  early  morning,  I  also  dis- 
pute its  utility. 

First  of  all,  it  is  seldom  that  one  has  the 
energy  to  get  up  every  morning  at  four 
o'clock.  One  must  depend  upon  some  other 

[278] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


assistance  than  that  of  the  ever-feeble  will, 
when  it  is  the  question,  as  in  winter  for  ex- 
ample, of  leaving  the  pleasant  warmth  of 
one's  bed  for  the  cold  atmosphere  of  one's 
room.  Once,  in  a  town  in  the  south  of  France, 
I  had  a  room  in  the  house  of  a  baker,  whose 
boys  had  orders  to  get  me  out  of  the  bed  in 
the  morning,  when  they  left  work,  and  to  use 
" brute  force,"  in  spite  of  my  protestations. 
For  a  whole  winter  I  was  at  my  work-table 
at  five  o'clock.  From  this  long  experience 
I  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  in  spite  of  the 
long  time  it  took  me  to  get  accustomed  to  it, 
I  nevertheless  could  always  succeed  by  perse- 
vering. It  was  not  long  before  my  work  be- 
came good,  and  everything  that  I  learned  I 
managed  to  learn  thoroughly,  and  was  a  defi- 
nite acquisition.  But  the  rest  of  the  day  I 
was  rather  stupid  and  sleepy.  And  I  con- 
cluded, in  summing  it  all  up,  that  it  was  bet- 
ter to  use  the  working  hours  of  the  day  than 
to  attempt  work  so  early  in  the  morning.  The 
only  advantage  of  the  method  is  that  no  day 
is  lost;  each  one  accomplishes  some  work, 
while  if  the  work  is  put  off  until  a  free  hour, 
there  is  danger,  if  one's  will  is  weak,  of  frit- 

[279] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

tering  away  the  time  that  should  be  used  in 
effort. 

It  is  most  important,  however,  not  to  spend 
too  much  time  in  bed  for  two  reasons.  The 
first  is  because  when  one  habitually  lies  in 
bed  longer  than  the  time  necessary  for  rest, 
even  tho  that  varies  for  each  individual,  sleep 
seems  to  "thicken  the  blood,"  the  whole 
morning  is  spoiled,  one  is  dull  and  indolent 
and  opprest.  One  shivers  easily  and  is  im- 
pressionable. But  this  is  not  the  most  serious 
drawback  of  exaggerated  rest;  one  may  lay 
it  down  as  an  absolute  rule,  without  excep- 
tion, that  every  student  who  lies  in  bed  very 
late,  or  who  stays  there  for  a  long  time  after 
waking,  invariably  sinks  into  debilitating 
habits.  Tell  me  how  long  you  lie  abed  in 
the  morning  and  I  will  tell  you  whether  or  not 
you  are  morally  strong. 


[280] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


VI 

Outside  of  sleep,  rest  takes  the  form  of 
recreation.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  not  to 
work  on  uninterruptedly.  The  old  compari- 
son of  the  mind  to  the  bow,  which,  always 
kept  stretched,  finally  loosens  its  tension,  is 
a  good  one.  Work  without  its  natural  recom- 
pense, which  is  rest,  degenerates  into  drudg- 
ery. Even  for  the  assimilation  of  our  acqui- 
sitions and  for  their  development  and  growth 
in  productiveness,  it  is  necessary  to  allow 
some  time  to  pass  between  the  periods  of 
work.  Such  rest  is  again  pure  and  simply 
for  the  work  itself;  in  fact,  intellectual  work 
can  not  go  on  without  being  accompanied  by 
active  work  between  nerve  centers.  Inverse- 
ly, active  work  in  the  nerve  centers  is  often 
found  to  further  our  intellectual  researches 
even  if  this  work  is  not  performed  con- 
sciously. It  is  no  longer  necessary  to-day  to 
defend  the  suggestive  discovery  of  the  corol- 
lation  of  ideas  and  of  a  "  nervous  sub- 
stratum." For,  when  intellectual  work 
ceases,  the  activity  of  the  nerve  centers  does 
not  immediately  come  to  an  end,  the  uncon- 

[281] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

scions  work  continues  and,  in  fact,  it  is  the 
fixing  and  development  of  memories  from 
which  its  profit  is  derived. 

Hence  the  foolishness  of  passing  without  a 
pause  to  a  new  piece  of  work.  First,  one 
loses  the  benefit  of  this  spontaneous  work 
which  goes  on  in  the  subconscious  regions  of 
the  mind,  and,  furthermore,  it  must  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  go  in  opposition  to  the  established 
blood  currents  and  require  them  to  establish 
a  new  plan.  It  is  like  stopping  a  train  that 
is  going  at  full  speed,  first  slowing  it  down, 
and  then  switching  it  on  to  another  track. 
It  will  be  much  better  to  let  the  naturally  ac- 
quired enthusiasm  expend  itself  naturally,  by 
taking  a  little  rest  and  a  little  exercise,  and 
waiting  until  the  calm  should  be  reestablished 
in  the  cerebral  circulation.  In  a  long  expe- 
rience in  teaching,  I  have  often  seen  students, 
who  could  hardly  keep  up  with  their  course, 
and  who  saw  no  relationship  between  any 
of  their  subjects,  come  back  absolutely  trans- 
formed after  a  fortnight's  complete  intellec- 
tual rest  at  the  Easter  vacation.  A  settling 
process  had  gone  on  in  their  thoughts,  they 
had  finally  succeeded  in  organizing  their  ma- 

[282] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


terial,  and  they  were  complete  masters  of 
their  subjects.  Without  this  beneficial  rest 
from  new  acquisitions  nothing  perhaps  could 
have  been  accomplished  by  them. 

There  has  never  been  enough  said  about 
the  necessity  of  rest  for  work.  How  right 
Topff er x  is  "  You  must  work  first,  my  friend, 
and  then  go  out  and  see  some  one,  take  the 
air  and  stroll  about,  for  that  is  the  way  to 
digest  what  you  have  learned  and  what  you 
have  observed,  and  to  bind  science  to  life  in- 
stead of  only  binding  it  to  your  memory." 

But  one  must  not  pursue  rest  as  an  end ;  it 
is  not  and  ought  not  to  be  considered  other 
than  as  a  means  to  reanimate  our  energy. 

All  the  same  there  are  a  great  many  ways 
of  resting,  and  the  choice  of  one's  distrac- 
tions should  not  be  a  matter  of  indifference 
to  any  one  who  wishes  to  strengthen  his  will. 
The  essential  characters  of  the  right  kind 
of  distraction  should  be  to  quicken  the  circu- 
lation and  the  respiratory  rhythm,  and  espe- 
cially to  provoke  a  thorough  exercise  of  the 
muscles  of  the  thorax  and  the  vertebral  col- 
umn, and  to  rest  the  sight. 

i  Presbyt&re  LI,  50. 

[283] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

One  will  see  at  once  that  these  requisite 
conditions  will  cause  us  to  give  up  absolutely, 
as  having  all  the  drawbacks  of  a  sedentary 
employment  and,  furthermore,  too  often  the 
drawbacks  of  a  bad  atmosphere,  such  games 
as  cards  and  chess,  and  in  fact  all  games 
which  are  played  in  such  places  where  the 
air  would  be  charged  with  tobacco  smoke  and 
seldom  freshened. 

On  the  other  hand,  taking  walks  in  the 
country  and  little  excursions  into  the  woods 
fill  the  required  program  to  a  certain  extent. 
Unfortunately,  these  pleasures  do  not  satisfy 
all  the  required  conditions,  since  they  do  not 
affect  the  muscles  of  the  vertebral  column, 
which  control  the  respiration  and  those  which 
surround  the  stomach.  Nevertheless,  they  fill 
the  lungs  with  pure  air  and  rest  the  eyes 
pleasantly.  Skating,  which  is  the  pleasantest 
of  all  exercises,  and  one  with  the  greatest 
variety  of  movements,  as  well  as  swimming 
in  summer,  which  is  the  most  vigorous  of 
respiratory  exercises,  have  a  marvelous 
power  of  refreshing  the  intellectual  worker. 
To  these  may  be  added  rowing,  with  the 
charming  landscape  along  the  shores,  and 

[284] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


gardening,  with  the  varied  movements  which 
it  requires.1 

In  rainy  weather  billiards  or  carpentering 
are  excellent  occupations  for  the  house.  In 
the  garden  one  can  play  ten-pins  or  skittles 
or  at  bowls,  all  of  which  are  old  French 
games,  which  neither  croquet  nor  lawn  ten- 
nis should  supplant.  During  the  holidays, 
nothing  is  of  so  much  value  as  pleasant  little 
trips  with  one's  knapsack  on  one's  back,  into 
the  Alps  or  the  Pyrenees,  in  the  Vosges  or 
in  Brittany.  One  must  be  careful,  however, 
during  the  working  months  (in  vacation  this 
is  no  drawback),  that  when  such  exercise  pro- 
duces perspiration,  one  should  not  push  it  to 
the  point  of  lassitude.  Any  fatigue  is  too 
much,  for,  when  added  to  intellectual  work, 
it  becomes  overstrain. 

In  addition  to  the  immediate  benefits  of 
these  distractions,  the  joy  of  healthy  exercise 
has,  like  other  light-hearted  joyful  emotions, 

1  We  do  not  mention  hunting  here,  as  it  is  often  exhaust- 
ing and  can  never  become  an  habitual  exercise,  nor  fencing 
which  induces  nervous  fatigue  and  is  positively  contraindi- 
cated  for  all  men  who  work  with  the  brain.  See  Lagrange, 
"L 'Exercise  chez  les  Adultes."  F.  Alean,  Paris,  p.  299, 
et  seq. 

[285] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

a  very  great  hygienic  value.  It  has  been  said 
that  joy  is  the  best  health-giver ;  physical  joy 
is  like  a  chant  of  triumph  of  the  well-balanced 
organism.  And  when  to  these  animal  joys 
there  is  added  the  keen  satisfaction  of  intel- 
lectual work,  which  is  not  without  its  ex- 
clusive happiness — but  which  rather  gives  a 
freshness  and  savor  to  other  pleasures — then 
happiness  is  complete.  For  the  young  peo- 
ple, who  are  sufficiently  masters  of  them- 
selves to  regulate  their  life  in  this  way,  life 
is  truly  worth  living:  and  to  this  company 
of  the  chosen,  we  may  all  belong  if  we  know 
how  to  will  it. 


VII 

To  sum  up,  persevering  energy  of  the  will 
implies  the  ability  to  make  long  continued 
efforts.  But  without  health,  no  such  efforts 
are  possible.  Health  is  therefore  an  essen- 
tial condition  to  moral  energy.  ' '  No  one  may 
enter  here  who  is  not  a  geometrist, ' '  said 
Plato,  and  no  one  may  enter  here,  we  say  em- 
phatically, if  he  does  not  follow  the  laws  of 
hygiene  on  the  point  on  which  they  are  firmly 

[286] 


BODILY  HYGIENE 


established.  In  the  same  way  that  the  will  is 
built  up  of  slight  but  frequently  repeated 
efforts,  by  the  foundation  of  good  health  is 
laid  small  hygienic  precautions;  precautions 
concerning  one's  food,  fresh  air,  and  circula- 
tion of  the  blood.  It  presupposes  the 
thorough  understanding  of  the  value  of  rest 
and  physical  exercises.  We  have  felt  it  nec- 
essary to  speak  very  decidedly  against  the 
prevailing  exaggeration  of  exercise  in  our 
thoughtless  imitation  of  England.  We  have 
even  pushed  our  scruples  so  far  as  to 
point  out  which  are  harmful  pleasures  and 
which  are  useful,  according  to  the  require- 
ments we  have  laid  down  for  profitable 
intellectual  work,  which  are,  that  intelligence, 
sensibility,  and  the  will  depend  very  largely 
on  the  state  of  the  body.  If  a  soul,  as  Bos- 
suet  has  said,  is  mistress  of  the  body  which 
she  animates,  she  can  not  hold  her  sovereign- 
ty long  if  the  body  be  worn  out  and  weak. 
In  such  condition,  we  might  be  able  to  make 
an  heroic  effort,  but  it  would  not  be  possible 
to  follow  it  immediately  by  others,  for  abso- 
lute exhaustion  will  be  the  natural  conse- 
quence of  the  first.  In  life,  such  as  civiliza- 

[287] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

tion  has  made  it  for  us,  the  opportunities  for 
heroic  deeds  are  rare;  so  rare,  that  it  is  not 
for  such  that  we  prepare  ourselves,  but  rather 
for  those  efforts  of  reiterated  detail  which 
must  be  repeated  every  day  and  hour.  It  will 
be  found,  however,  that  a  will  that  has  been 
tempered  and  trained  by  such  perpetual  ef- 
forts, will  be  better  prepared  than  another 
for  brave  actions  when  the  hour  to  accom- 
plish such  comes.  But  these  repeated  efforts 
in  themselves  are  constancy  and  continuity 
of  purpose,  and  it  follows  that  when  there 
is  the  power  to  persevere  in  effort  there 
will  also  be  a  steady  development  of  strength. 
One  seldom  stops  to  appreciate  the  wisdom 
of  the  ancients  on  this  point,  when  they 
enunciated  their  famous  maxim:  M ens  sana 
in  corpore  sano.  Let  us  then  be  very  care- 
ful to  furnish  our  will  with  the  requirements 
of  physical  energy,  without  which  any  effort, 
of  any  nature  whatsoever,  will  shrivel  up  and 
never  amount  to  anything. 


[288] 


A  GENERAL  GLANCE 


A  GENERAL  GLANCE 

WE  have  now  reached  the  end  of  the  first 
part  of  our  subject. 

We  first  determined  the  nature  of  the  ene- 
mies to  combat  in  this  most  important  and 
profitable  struggle  against  our  lower  powers. 
We  have  learned  that  the  passions  are  not 
of  much  importance  in  the  struggle  for  the 
conquest  of  self,  except  as  they  aid  and  abet 
that  arch-enemy,  laziness,  that  force  of  iner- 
tia which  tends  unceasingly  to  drag  man  down 
to  that  level  from  which  he  has  with  so  much 
difficulty  climbed  through  centuries  of  effort. 
We  have  learned  to  understand  that  the  term 
master  of  one's  self  can  never  be  applied  to 
any  one  who  has  an  impulsive  will.  Supreme 
energy  implies  continued  energy,  prolonged 
during  months  and  years,  and  the  touch- 
stone of  the  will  is  endurance. 

Then,  we  have  been  obliged  to  get  rid  of 
two  philosophical  theories,  each  of  which,  to 
our  way  of  thinking,  was  as  discouraging  as 
the  other:  the  one  pretends  that  we  can  do 

[289] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

nothing  with  our  character,  that  it  is  prede- 
termined and  innate,  that  we  are  what  we 
are,  and  that  we  can  attempt  nothing  toward 
our  own  freedom :  an  absurd  theory,  and  one 
which  denotes  so  clearly  the  habit  of  thinking 
with  words,  and  such  an  ignorance  of  the  ele- 
mentary facts  of  psychology,  that  one  would 
be  astonished  to  see  it  upheld  by  philoso- 
phers of  distinction,  if  one  did  not  appreciate 
the  powerful  suggestion  which  preconceived 
theories  exercise  upon  the  mind;  a  sugges- 
tion which,  in  fact,  acts  upon  it  as  blinders 
do  on  a  horse,  preventing  it  from  seeing  the 
most  manifest  facts. 

The  other  theory,  that  of  free  will,  is  no 
less  naive  nor  discouraging,  in  that  it  con- 
siders the  reform  of  character  as  the  work 
of  an  instant,  and  in  that  it  has  certainly 
prevented  moralists  from  studying  psychol- 
ogy. Nothing,  however,  but  the  most  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  the  laws  of  our  nature, 
will  enable  us  to  find  out  the  ways  and  means 
by  which  we  can  reform  our  characters. 

With  the  road  cleared  of  these  two  theo- 
ries, we  enter  into  the  psychological  study 
of  our  subject.  We  have  spoken  of  the  great 

[290] 


A  GENERAL  GLANCE 


power  that  we  have  over  our  ideas,  and  of 
the  feeble  aid  which  they  can  give  us  directly, 
while  we  have  almost  no  direct  power  over 
our  sentiments  which  are  all  powerful  over 
us.  But  fortunately,  with  the  aid  of  time 
and  discerning  diplomacy,  we  can  overcome 
all  the  difficulties,  and  by  indirect  methods 
can  win  a  victory  even  when  defeat  seems 
certain.  We  have  patiently  studied  these  proc- 
esses which  give  us  the  mastery  of  ourselves 
in  the  chapter  on  meditative  reflection  and 
action,  and  we  have  been  obliged,  by  reason 
of  the  very  close  relations  which  exist  be- 
tween the  physical  and  the  moral,  to  examine 
in  a  chapter  on  hygiene  these  physiological 
conditions  which  are  favorable  to  develop- 
ment of  the  will. 

The  purely  theoretical  part  of  our  work 
is  therefore  finished.  It  now  remains  for  us 
to  come  down  to  the  practical  part  and  to 
apply  to  the  life  of  the  student  those  great 
general  laws  which  we  have  studied  so  far 
only  in  themselves.  In  other  words,  we  must 
study  from  a  little  nearer  point  of  view  the 
exact  dangers  which  threaten  the  moral  au- 
tonomy of  the  student,  and  the  aids  which 

[291] 


THE  EDUCATION  OP  THE  WILL 

he  can  find  to  protect  himself,  either  within 
himself,  or  without. 

We  divide  this  second  part,  which  is  a 
practical  treatise,  into  two  books,  Books  IV 
andV. 

Book  IV  has  two  main  divisions,  the  one 
devoted  to  the  enemies  to  combat  (pars  de- 
struens),  the  other  (pars  construens)  is  a 
setting  forth  of  the  proper  meditations, 
which  will  arouse  in  a  young  man  a  strong 
desire  for  a  life  of  action  which  is  wholly 
under  the  control  of  his  will. 

Book  V  passes  in  review  the  outside  aids 
which  the  student  may  find  for  the  education 
of  his  will  in  the  society  which  surrounds 
him. 


[292] 


PRACTICAL  SECTION 
BOOK  IV 

PRIVATE  MEDITATIONS 


[293] 


THE    ENEMIES    TO    COMBAT:    SENTIMENTAL 
DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

THE  enemies  to  combat  are,  as  we  have 
seen,  two  in  number :  sensuality  and  laziness. 
Laziness,  being  the  perpetual  letting  go  of 
self,  constitutes  the  necessary  "  medium " 
for  the  development  of  all  vicious  germs; 
therefore,  in  a  certain  sense,  all  low  passions 
imply  laziness.  If  we  were  pushed  a  little 
further,  we  would  not  hesitate  at  all  to  state, 
as  the  Stoics  did,  that  all  base  passions  are 
due  to  weakness  of  the  will.  What  is  it  to 
be  passionate  if  it  is  not  to  cease  to  be  mas- 
ter of  one's  self?  Passion  is  the  animal  na- 
ture victorious;  it  is  the  blind  tendencies  of 
heredity  which  obscure  and  oppress  our  in- 
telligence, and  still  further  debase  it  to  their 
own  ends ;  it  is  the  suppression  of  humanity 
in  us,  the  lowering  of  what  is  both  our  honor 
and  our  very  reason  for  existence.  While 
it  is  raging  we  retrograde  several  steps  in 
the  zoological  series. 

Nevertheless,  the  passions  are  less  danger- 

[295] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

ous,  on  account  of  their  short  duration,  than 
those  forces  which  are  permanently  harmful, 
and  which  we  have  compared  to  the  force  of 
gravity.  And  in  the  same  way  that  a  build- 
ing is  safe  only  when  the  architect  has  built 
the  walls  with  due  regard  to  the  law  of  pres- 
sure, so  the  work  of  our  own  regeneration  will 
be  lasting  only  when  we  have  been  able  to 
neutralize  the  action  of  hostile  forces  by  op- 
posing them  with  a  victorious  array  of  forces 
that  are  favorable  to  our  end,  and  when  we 
have  even  succeeded  in  winning  some  of  these 
hostile  forces  to  fight  for  us.  But  how  shall 
we  be  able  at  the  first  glance  to  get  some 
sort  of  an  idea  whether  a  force  is  for  us  or 
against  us  ?  Nothing  is  more  simple.  Every 
psychological  force  is  dangerous  to  our  will 
if  it  encourages  our  laziness,  but  helpful  if 
it  acts  in  the  opposite  direction. 

The  work  that  we  must  undertake,  there- 
fore, stands  out  very  distinctly.  The  first 
thing  to  do  is  to  weaken,  or  as  far  as  possi- 
ble destroy,  all  the  forces  which  tend  to  un- 
dermine our  energy,  and  to  give  the  greatest 
possible  vigor  to  those  which  tend  to 
strengthen  it. 

[296] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

There  are  many  things  which  tend  to 
weaken  the  persevering  will.  The  first  in  im- 
portance is  that  sentimental  day-dreaming 
which  so  many  young  people  indulge  in,  and 
which  insensibly  leads  the  imagination  to 
take  pleasure  in  voluptuous  reveries  which 
are  the  most  common  cause  of  deplorable  per- 
sonal habits.  Next  in  order  comes  the  bane- 
ful personal  influence  of  companions  who 
have  ceased  to  make  any  effort  to  improve 
themselves,  the  life  of  the  club  and  restau- 
rant and  the  depression  and  discouragement 
of  the  formidable  array  of  sophisms  with 
which  the  lazy  seek  to  excuse  their  slothful- 
ness;  sophisms  which  are  so  often  repeated 
that  they  get  themselves  accepted  even  by 
enlightened  people,  and  finally  acquire  the 
authority  and  weight  of  axioms,  and  deadly 
axioms  they  are ! 

We  shall  begin  the  study  of  psychological 
facts  which  are  detrimental  to  the  will  by  ex- 
amining sentimental  day-dreams  and  vague 
aspirations. 

In  the  undergraduate  courses  in  college 
life  the  young  man,  held  in  restraint  by  the 
rules  of  Ms  house,  and  occupied  by  numerous 

[297] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

obligatory  duties,  and  kept  in  working  order 
by  his  desire  to  excel,  as  well  as  the  pressure 
of  examinations,  is  obliged  to  lead  a  strictly 
sober  and  well-regulated  life,  and  has  scarce- 
ly any  time  to  give  himself  up  to  prolonged 
day-dreaming,  at  least  not  at  the  present  day, 
when  the  hours  of  study  have  been  shortened, 
and  those  for  recreation  increased.  He  can 
hardly  do  now,  as  alas!  nearly  all  the  resi- 
dent students  used  to  do,  devote  the  major 
part  of  his  study  hours  in  the  evening  to 
building  castles  in  the  air,  and  imagining 
scenes  of  tender  passion.  But  on  leaving  col- 
lege to  begin  professional  studies,  where  he 
is  thrown  suddenly  alone  into  the  midst  of 
city  life,  without  relatives  or  any  supervi- 
sion, without  obligatory  studies  for  certain 
hours,  without  even  any  definite  set  work, 
the  student  finds  that  the  hours  which  he 
fritters  away  in  doing  what  he  pleases,  or 
yielding  to  his  weaknesses,  or  in  absolute 
laziness,  are  constantly  increasing  in  number. 
Unfortunately,  at  this  very  period,  certain 
physiological  changes  which  have  been  going 
on  for  a  long  time  are  now  completed.  His 
development  is  almost  mature.  The  enor- 

[298] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

mous  effort  of  the  child  to  classify  and  solve 
the  problems  of  his  immediate  world  is 
ended :  but  numerous  forces  that  have  as  yet 
been  put  to  no  use  begin  to  cause  him  trou- 
ble. The  awakening  of  the  senses  all  at  once 
tinges  his  thoughts  with  reflections  that  they 
did  not  have  before.  Imagination  begins  to 
work.  It  is  this  state  of  genuine  suffering, 
which  is  rendered  poetic  in  literature,  that 
Beaumarchais  has  so  skilfully  depicted,  in 
his  Cherubim.  He  is  not  in  love  with  any 
particular  woman,  he  is  still  "in  love  with 
love."  At  this  age  we  have  such  power  of 
transfiguration,  such  super  abounding  vigor 
in  life,  such  need  of  lavishing  our  affections 
on  some  object,  or  devoting  ourselves  to  some 
cause,  or  making  some  sacrifice,  that  it  is 
truly  a  blessed  state. 

But  alas!  it  is  a  critical  moment  in  life. 
This  ardor  must  find  an  outlet.  If  it  is  not 
directed  toward  honorable  occupations,  there 
is  danger  that  it  will  rush  impetuously  to- 
ward low  and  shameful  pleasures.  It  is  at 
this  time  that  the  Herculean  struggle  between 
vice  and  virtue  begins.  Whichever  side  be 
chosen,  it  will  be  passionately  and  vehe- 

[299] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

mently  supported.  For  the  great  majority  of 
young  people  there  is  no  question  about  their 
choice.  They  go  in  the  direction  in  which 
they  are  borne  along  by  their  distaste  for 
study,  the  example  of  bad  companionship,  the 
lack  of  healthful  recreations,  the  weakness 
of  their  wills  and  their  imaginations,  which 
have  already  become  indecent  or  corrupt.  Of 
such  it  is  incorrect  to  say  that  they  have 
given  up  the  battle,  for  they  never  for  a 
moment  attempted  to  struggle.  It  must, 
however,  be  admitted  that  the  delightful  ro- 
mances which  flit  through  their  imaginations, 
and  the  future  which  they  plan  to  please 
their  fancy,  are  infinitely  more  interesting 
than  work,  and  require  far  less  effort.  As 
soon,  therefore,  as  a  study  becomes  weari- 
some the  student  begins  to  reason  that  he 
can  just  as  well  put  his  work  off  till  to-mor- 
row, which,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  always 
does.  He  then  lets  himself  go,  and  indulges 
in  day-dreams  which  absorb  the  best  part  of 
his  time.  How  many  young  men  there  are 
who  are  living  in  some  sort  of  romance,  made 
up  bit  by  bit  during  weeks  and  weeks,  vary- 
ing the  theme  in  a  hundred  different  ways, 

[300] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

imagining  their  heroine  in  every  possible  sit- 
uation, even  addressing  her  aloud  in  words 
which  they  can  never  make  too  tender,  too 
sweet,  or  too  ardent !  Ah,  how  pale  and  col- 
orless the  passions  of  our  novelists  are  com- 
pared with  our  own  romances  at  eighteen! 
Their  plots  and  their  characters  lack  that 
richness  of  affection  and  disinterested  gen- 
erosity which  is  the  glory  of  this  privileged 
age.  It  is  not  until  later  when  our  imagina- 
tion has  been  crowded  out  by  serious  affairs, 
and  has  become  cold  and  inert,  that  we  turn 
to  the  novelist  and  ask  him  to  take  the  place 
of  the  poet  we  once  were,  but  are  no  more. 
The  unfortunate  thing  about  these  tender  ro- 
mances is  that  they  are  built  up  in  the  hours 
which  ought  to  be  given  to  work,  and  too 
often  young  men  get  into  such  a  habit  of  day- 
dreaming that  they  find  it  impossible  to  do 
any  serious  work.  Some  word  that  they  read, 
some  slight  suggestion,  and  it  is  enough  to 
carry  them  far  away  from  their  work.  An 
hour  has  slipt  away  before  they  get  hold  of 
themselves  again.  And  what  is  more,  the 
contrast  between  his  dreams  and  the  solitary 
life  of  a  lonely  student  shut  up  in  his  room, 

[301] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

is  such  that  his  work,  which  often  seems  tire- 
some to  him,  becomes  so  bitter  that  he  loses 
courage  altogether.  It  is  so  hard  to  come 
down  from  the  enchanted  heaven  to  the  pro- 
saic reality  of  life !  In  every  way  day-dreams 
are  harmful.  Too  many  precious  hours 
which  should  have  been  given  to  work  are 
consumed  in  this  useless  and  profitless 
fashion ! 

This  squandering  of  the  intelligence  and 
sentiment  comes  from  superficial  causes, 
chiefly  from  an  unregulated  imagination,  but 
unfortunately  it  has  also  more  profound 
causes. 

One  very  important  cause  is  the  physio- 
logical transformation  of  which  we  have 
spoken.  This  is  the  approach  of  manhood, 
and  also  the  very  wide  step  that  lies  between 
the  physical  capacity  and  the  corresponding 
social  capacity. 

From  the  end  of  his  preliminary  studies,  a 
young  man  has  to  work  for  eight  or  ten  years 
in  order  to  attain  a  position  which  will  jus- 
tify him  in  making  a  "suitable"  marriage. 
In  France  they  admit  that  a  young  girl  must 
"buy"  her  husband,  and  few  are  the  young 

[302] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

men  who  dare  to  approach  a  dowerless  mar- 
riage and  depend  on  their  youth  and  vigor 
and  courage  to  attain  a  competency.  They 
prefer  to  wait  and  often  make  a  bad  bargain : 
for,  unfortunately,  the  dowry  does  not  go 
without  the  bride,  and  too  often  money  can 
not  compensate  for  poor  health,  extravagant 
tastes,  inability  to  manage  a  home,  and  for 
the  annoyances  which  arise  for  the  wife  as 
well  as  for  the  husband,  through  the  idleness 
of  the  former. 

With  the  present  social  customs,  in  France 
at  least,  a  student  can  not  marry  before 
thirty  years  of  age,  so  that  the  ten  best  years 
of  life  pass  either  in  a  painful  struggle 
against  one's  physiological  needs,  or  else  in 
vice.  For  the  men  are  rare  who  keep  up 
the  struggle,  and  the  majority  of  students 
dissipate  their  youth  in  a  low,  foolish  de- 
moralizing life. 

It  is  sad  to  count  up  the  number  of  mis- 
fortunes caused  by  this  pernicious  custom  of 
late  marriages.  How  much  joy,  health  and 
energy  is  foolishly  squandered.  For  altho 
marriage  may  have  its  inconveniences  and 
impose  heavy  burdens,  yet  it  brings  them  at 

[303] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

an  age  when  one  is  able  to  bear  them  easily. 
The  necessary  efforts  that  must  be  put  forth 
to  make  a  living  for  those  that  belong  to  him 
are  at  least  not  wholly  selfish  efforts;  it  is 
a  healthful  and  manly  discipline  for  a  young 
man  to  work  for  others.  Furthermore,  if 
marriage  without  a  dowry  has  its  drawbacks, 
it  also  has  great  moral  advantages.  The  hus- 
band and  the  wife  feel  a  mutual  responsi- 
bility. It  is  of  primary  importance  for  the 
wife  to  give  her  husband  the  benefit  of  her 
best  intelligence  by  looking  closely  after  his 
health.  She  does  not  delegate  the  prepara- 
tion of  his  meals  to  a  careless  servant.  The 
various  dishes  are  to  her  as  notes  upon  the 
keyboard  which  she  has  studied,  and  on 
which  she  plays  skilfully,  knowing  the  effect 
that  each  will  have  upon  the  health  of  the 
one  who  is  everything  to  her.  The  husband 
for  his  part  feels  that  he  has  the  care  of 
other  lives.  He  must  guard  against  the 
chance  of  death  by  insuring  his  life.  When 
he  goes  to  his  business  in  the  morning  he 
leaves  at  home  a  happy-hearted  contented 
wife,  who  is  full  of  health  and  vigor.  He 
knows  that  when  he  returns  he  will  find  an 

[304] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

affectionate  welcome  and  sympathy  for  any 
disappointments  he  may  have  had.  He  knows 
that  he  will  find  his  house  neat  and  clean 
and  with  that  festive  air  which  belongs  to 
happy  homes.  There  is  no  more  strength- 
giving  sentiment  for  a  young  man  than  that 
which  is  built  up  by  this  association  of  two 
persons  of  good  sense  and  courage  against 
misfortune  and  disease.  As  they  advance  in 
life  their  affection  and  happiness  increase: 
the  work  of  the  one  and  the  economy  of  the 
other  enable  them  to  adorn  their  home.  Each 
jewel  that  is  bought,  each  new  piece  of  fur- 
niture is  the  result  of  the  sacrifice  of  all 
pleasures  and  joys  which  are  not  held  in 
common;  this,  without  mentioning  children, 
creates  a  bond  of  extraordinary  force.  In 
the  homes  which  have  started  out  modestly 
the  comforts  increase  with  age,  and  the  cares 
diminish,  and  old  age  is  perfectly  happy  be- 
cause it  enjoys  security,  tranquillity,  and 
wealth  only  after  having  worked  a  long  time 
to  obtain  them.  As  the  poet  has  truly  said: 

The  only  wealth  a  man  enjoys  for  long  without  remorse 
Is  that  which  he  himself  has  earned  which  cost  him  time 

and  force.1 

i  Sully  Prudhomme.     "Le  Bonheur." 
[305] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

One  ought  not,  then,  to  hesitate  to  marry 
young,  for  altho  that  is  possible  only  by  giv- 
ing up  the  idea  of  a  large  dowry,  in  France 
at  least,  yet  one  will  have  the  advantage  of 
choosing  a  woman  for  her  good  qualities.  It 
must  also  be  admitted  that  the  young  girls 
whom  our  professional  men  would  marry 
later  are  less  and  less  fitted  to  marry.  The 
hot-house  education  which  they  have  received, 
the  lack  of  fresh  air  and  exercise,  and  their 
habit  of  wearing  tight  corsets  too  frequently 
renders  them  unfit  to  bear  the  strain  of  ma- 
ternity. Very  few  have  either  the  courage  or 
the  strength  to  nurse  their  children.  Physi- 
cians agree  that  deficiencies  in  this  direction 
are  all  too  frequent. 

The  absolute  indolence  in  which  they  spend 
their  time  after  leaving  boarding  school,  the 
excellent  food  which  they  receive,  and  the  ab- 
sence of  all  fatigue,  the  excitement  of  the 
evening  entertainments  to  which  they  are 
taken,  the  opera,  the  perusal  of  the  sentimen- 
tal novels  which  they  are  permitted  to  read, 
and  which  appear  in  the  young  ladies'  jour- 
nals or  fashion  papers,  all  combine  together 
to  make  it  impossible  for  their  imagination 

[306] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

not  to  be  perverted.  One  can  have  no  idea 
of  how  little  the  indolent  society  girl  knows 
of  the  suffering  of  the  world. 

Furthermore,  brought  up,  as  it  were,  on  the 
outskirts  of  life  and  seeing  nothing  but  the 
refinements  and  politeness  of  social  inter- 
course, and  having,  besides,  no  question  but 
that  the  morrow  will  be  provided  for,  they 
know  nothing  of  the  realities  of  life,  and  when 
these  surge  up  through  their  conventional 
ideas  of  propriety,  they  are  terribly  disillu- 
sioned. They  have  as  a  rule  less  common 
sense  than  the  young  girls  of  the  families  of 
the  working  classes. 

But,  you  will  say,  young  girls  of  wealth 
have  at  least  the  advantage  of  the  best  edu- 
cation. Alas!  there  are  many  illusions  con- 
cerning this.  They  hardly  ever  attain  real 
culture.  They  can  fill  their  memories  full  of 
a  variety  of  things,  but  do  not  expect  any 
efforts  of  creative  imagination  from  them.  It 
is  very  hard  to  find  any  "personality"  among 
them,  and  M.  Manuel,  the  inspector-general, 
and  for  many  years  president  of  the  Board  of 
Examiners  of  Young  Women,  stated  this  fact 
in  several  of  his  reports. 

[307] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

However  true  this  may  be  of  them,  when  we 
Frenchmen  marry  them,  we  are  so  far  ahead 
of  them  that  they  never  appear  to  their  hus- 
bands, especially  if  the  husband  is  a  thinker 
and  a  worker,  as  anything  more  than  medi- 
ocre students.  But  even  without  a  superior 
education,  a  wife  with  good  sense,  sound  judg- 
ment and  keen  observation  is  infinitely  more 
helpful  to  a  man  of  talent.  He  lives,  in  fact, 
and  more  and  more,  as  time  goes  on,  above 
the  human  plane.  He  perseveringly  keeps  up 
his  pursuit  of  ideas,  and  finally  loses  all 
touch  with  the  surrounding  world.  The  wife, 
however,  lives  wholly  in  the  world.  She  is 
able  to  gather  a  rich  harvest  of  observations 
which  the  husband,  ignoring  details,  has  never 
perceived ;  she  establishes  a  bond  between  the 
world  and  him.  She  sometimes  draws  in  at 
a  single  cast  of  her  net,  a  miraculous  catch 
of  fishes,  precious  bits  of  information,  of 
which  the  husband  sees  the  general  import. 
Stuart  Mill  constantly  spoke  in  extremely 
eulogistic  terms  of  Mrs.  Taylor;  while  his 
friends,  and  principally  Bain,  declared  that 
she  had  a  very  ordinary  mind.1 

iBain,  Stuart  Mill,  "A  Criticism. » '  London,  1882,  p.  163. 
[308] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

They  did  not  understand,  that  for  a  thinker 
like  Mill,  wholly  wrapt  up  in  abstractions, 
Mrs.  Taylor,  if  she  was  a  close  observer,  and 
was  discerning  in  her  judgment,  must  have 
furnished  him,  as  Mill  declared  she  did,  ma- 
terial for  some  of  his  greatest  theories  in  eco- 
nomics, for  in  his  "Political  Economy "  Mill 
constantly  praises  the  eminently  practical 
minds  of  women,  and  their  genius  for  detail. 
This  was  the  great  influence  of  Mrs.  Taylor, 
and  as  a  like  incentive,  a  woman  with  the 
gift  of  observation,  a  little  matter  of  fact, 
but  discerning,  is  more  precious  to  the  thinker 
than  a  whole  harem  full  of  blue  stockings.1 

But  however  soon  a  young  man,  whose  life 
is  to  be  spent  in  intellectual  work,  is  able  to 
marry,  as  he  can  not  do  so  immediately  on 
leaving  school  or  college,  there  will  still  re- 
main several  years  in  which  he  must  struggle 

1 ' '  Women, ' '  says  Schopenhauer,  ' '  are  afflicted  with  in- 
tellectual myopia  which  permits  them  to  see,  as  if  it  were 
by  a  sort  of  intuition,  everything  that  lies  close  to  them, 
with  the  greatest  distinctness.  .  .  .  While  with  us,  on  the 
other  hand,  our  glance  never  stops  to  rest  on  the  things 
under  our  very  eyes,  but  passes  on,  seeking  for  something 
far  beyond.  We  need  to  be  taught  to  see  things  more  di- 
rectly, and  more  quickly. ' ' 

[309] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

to  free  himself  from  the  bondage  of  his 
physical  cravings.  The  struggle  is  wholly  an 
affair  of  tactics,  ways  and  means.  If  it  is 
not  handled  properly,  defeat  is  certain. 

4 
II 

We  need  not  be  afraid  to  approach  snch  an 
important  subject  as  sensuality  in  a  book  that 
is  written  for  young  people  between  the  ages 
of  eighteen  and  twenty-five.  Not  to  speak  of 
a  thing  from  which  the  noblest  spirits  of  hu- 
manity have  suffered  would  be  out-and-out 
hypocrisy.  Kant  has  a  page  on  this  subject 
which  is  rendered  in  the  French  translation 
by  several  lines  of  dots.  These  dots  speak 
eloquently  of  the  attitude  of  public  opinion  011 
this  question;  but  when  one  remembers  the 
lack  of  delicacy  in  the  after-dinner  stories  of 
well-bred  men  over  their  cigars,  it  would  be 
foolish  to  take  this  modesty  for  the  genuine 
hall-marked  article  when  it  is  only  a  counter- 
feit, and  not  to  dare  to  say  what  is  plainly 
the  duty  of  some  man  of  spirit  to  say. 

It  is  only  too  true  that  the  idle  day-dreams 
of  puberty  soon  pass  over  into  sensuality. 

[310] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

The  indistinct  visions  become  more  definite, 
vague  desires  become  acts  and  the  student 
either  gives  himself  up  to  secret  habits,  or 
else  as  the  majority  of  young  men  do,  if  they 
are  a  little  bolder,  or  have  more  money,  seeks 
the  women  who  professionally  sell  themselves. 
The  consequences  of  this  state  of  things 
are,  as  a  rule,  so  exaggerated  that  the  over- 
drawn picture  frightens  nobody.  It  is,  how- 
ever, none  the  less  true  that  the  health  is 
seriously  impaired  by  such  excesses;  the 
young  people  who  commit  them  get  an  oldish 
look.  They  have  a  feeling  of  weakness  in 
the  back,  muscular  debility,  and  a  sensation 
of  pressure  in  the  spinal  cord,  slight  symp- 
toms which  pass  unnoticed  in  the  excitement 
of  physical  animal  exuberance.  They  lose 
their  color  and  freshness,  their  eyes  look  dull 
and  heavy,  and  have  dark  rings  under  them. 
Their  faces  have  a  deprest  look.  Everything 
indicates  a  fatigue  which,  if  frequently  ex- 
perienced, soon  saps  the  very  springs  of  life ; 
it,  to  a  certain  extent,  prepares  the  way  for 
gastralgias,  neuralgias,  hypertrophy  of  the 
heart  and  weakness  of  sight,  all  of  which  be- 
gin at  about  thirty  years  of  age  to  make  life 

[311] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

miserable  for  those  who  have  not  been  keen 
enough  to  foresee  the  consequences  of  indul- 
gence. But  the  body  is  not  the  only  thing  to 
feel  the  disastrous  influence  of  sensuality,  the 
memory  becomes  astonishingly  weak,  and  the 
mind  loses  all  its  buoyancy  and  vigor.  It 
begins  to  feel  dull  and  to  move  sluggishly,  as 
if  overcome  by  torpor.  The  attention  is  weak 
and  wandering.  The  days  slip  by  in  apa- 
thetic indifference,  accompanied  by  a  feeling 
of  listlessness  and  disheartening  laziness. 
Above  all,  there  is  that  loss  of  virile  joy  in 
work,  and  it  becomes  a  bore  the  moment  it 
lacks  its  material  recompense. 

Finally,  the  habit  of  physical  pleasure  sub- 
stitutes coarser  and  more  violent  emotions 
for  the  gentler  but  more  lasting  emotions  of 
the  mind.  Their  excitement  and  agitation  de- 
stroy the  joy  that  is  to  be  found  in  calmer 
pleasures.  And  as  sensual  pleasures  are 
short  in  duration,  and  are  followed  by  fatigue 
and  disgust,  the  character  becomes  habitually 
despondent  and  morose,  with  a  sense  of  de- 
pression which  drives  one  to  find  relief  in 
violent,  boisterous,  brutal  pleasures.  It  is 
a  discouragingly  vicious  circle. 

[312] 


DAY-DBEAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

It  is  not  necessary  to  add  to  this  picture, 
which  is  by  no  means  overdrawn,  the  social 
consequences  of  debauchery  which  are  so  de- 
plorable for  the  women  of  a  society  like  that 
of  France,  which  we  may  consider  is  still  half 
barbarous,  as  it  guarantees  young  men  of 
the  leisure  classes  immunity  from  social  os- 
tracism even  in  seduction. 

The  causes  of  sensuality  are  very  numer- 
ous. We  have  seen  that  one  of  them,  how- 
ever, is  organic.  In  the  same  way  that  the 
appeal  which  the  stomach  makes  to  conscious- 
ness, takes  the  form  of  that  discomfort  known 
as  hunger,  and  as  the  feeling  of  suffocation 
produced  when  air  can  not  reach  the  lungs 
is  the  cry  of  the  respiratory  organs  for  re- 
lief, so  in  the  same  way  when  the  seminal 
fluid  accumulates,  there  is  a  brutal  imperious 
demand  which,  in  some  inexplicable  way,  dis- 
turbs the  regular  workings  of  the  mind,  so 
long  as  its  desire  is  not  satisfied. 

However,  it  is  not  a  case  here,  as  it  is  with 
hunger,  of  suffering  from  a  lack  of  anything, 
but  rather  suffering  from  plethora  or  excess. 
There  is  a  superabundance  of  energy  to  be 
spent.  But  in  physiology,  as  in  a  budget  of 
[  313  ] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

expenses,  it  is  possible  to  make  a  clean  sweep 
of  the  surplus  by  writing  the  unused  funds 
under  different  headings. 

There  is  a  system  of  equivalences  in  which, 
whatever  may  be  the  origin  of  the  super- 
abundant force,  the  balance  will  be  wiped  out 
by  fatigue  of  some  sort. 

If  only  the  desire  would  remain  the  same 
the  struggle  against  it,  and  its  demands, 
would  be  easy.  But  it  acts  at  times  as  if 
it  were  whipt  up,  and  stimulated  by  many 
causes,  which  sometimes  transforms  the  de- 
sire into  a  perfect  outburst  of  furious  mad- 
ness, which  even  leads  one  to  commit  wild 
or  criminal  deeds. 

The  first  cause  of  this  over-stimulation  lies 
in  our  dietary  regime.  We  have  already  seen 
that  most  of  us  eat  too  much.  Our  food  is 
both  too  abundant  and  too  rich ;  as  Tolstoi l 
says,  we  eat  like  stallions.  Look  at  these 
students  leaving  the  table,  with  red,  congested 
faces,  loud  voices  and  noisy  mirth,  and  tell 
me  whether  you  think  it  will  be  possible  for 
them  to  do  any  intellectual  work  while  the 
difficult  process  of  digestion  is  going  on,  and 

i ' '  Kreutzer  Sonata. ' ' 

[314] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

whether  the  purely  animal  side  of  their  na- 
ture is  not  in  the  ascendent. 

Add  to  this  cause  of  stimulation  the  hours 
of  sitting  still  in  the  lecture-room  where  the 
air  is  often  warm,  or  in  the  heavy  close  at- 
mosphere of  the  cafes.  Still  further,  add  to 
this  the  habit  of  over-sleeping,  which  is  a 
certain  means  of  exciting  sensuality.  We 
say  certain,  because,  in  the  drowsy  indolent 
state  that  follows  waking  in  the  morning,  the 
will  seems  to  melt  away,  the  creature  element 
in  us  reigns  supreme ;  the  mind  itself  is  som- 
nolent, and  tho  it  may  seem  to  many  people 
as  tho  the  thoughts  that  come  to  them  in 
their  half -waking  hours  are  very  remarkable, 
yet  they  deceive  themselves.  The  critical 
sharpness  of  the  mind  is  dulled,  and  the  most 
inane  ideas  appear  strikingly  original.  But 
when  they  come  to  write  down  these  brilliant 
morning  thoughts,  they  will  perceive  that  they 
really  accomplished  nothing,  their  imagined 
mental  work  was  worthless  automatism. 

In  automatism,  indeed,  and  the  automaton 
in  us,  is  the  unleashed  animal  with  its  in- 
stincts and  desires ;  and  its  natural  tendency, 
the  object  of  its  existence,  is  sensual  pleasure. 

[315] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

This  is  so  true  that  we  can  lay  it  down  as  a 
rule  without  any  exception  that  the  young 
man  who  lies  in  bed  from  one  to  several  hours 
after  waking  is  unquestionably  depraved. 

To  these  causes  of  a  physical  nature  must 
be  added  the  temptation  of  environment.  The 
company  of  ordinary  companions  without 
character,  energy,  or  moral  perception  can 
not  be  otherwise  than  harmful.  And  unfor- 
tunately, it  must  be  admitted  that  among  the 
students  in  any  country  there  must  always 
be  a  considerable  number  of  " ne'er-do- 
weels."  They  incite  a  spirit  of  foolish,  ex- 
travagant emulation  in  their  circle,  and  the 
biggest  fools  set  the  pace  for  the  others.  In 
the  restaurants,  especially,  at  the  numerous 
tables  occupied  by  little  cliques,  the  meals  are 
noisy,  the  students  grow  heated  over  ridicu- 
lous and  unprofitable  discussions.  They  come 
out  from  this  over-excitement  quite  ready  to 
follow  any  of  the  indecent  suggestions  of 
their  comrades.  They  hasten  off  to  the  beer 
saloons,  and  the  orgy  begins.  After  so  much 
violent  excitement,  it  takes  a  long  time  to  re- 
turn to  quiet  work,  and  the  more  refined  joys 
of  the  spirit.  These  debauches  leave  behind 

[316] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

them  something  which  acts  as  a  bad  ferment, 
disorganizing  those  nobler  emotions  which, 
in  a  young  man,  are  so  easily  disturbed. 

If,  however,  these  were  the  only  causes  of 
depravity,  young  men  of  straightforward, 
good,  honest  natures,  could  avoid  them;  but 
unfortunately  there  are  other  suggestions  of 
a  higher  order,  and  popular  sophisms  ac- 
cepted by  everybody  which  legitimize  the 
worst  excesses. 

In  the  psychological  part  of  this  book  we 
studied  the  relation  of  the  natural  tenden- 
cies to  the  intelligence. 

In  itself  blind,  the  tendency  is  definitely  di- 
rected by  the  intelligence,  and  from  the  mo- 
ment that  it  becomes  conscious  of  its  direc- 
tion and  the  means  by  which  it  shall  act,  its 
power  is  doubled.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
tendency  attracts  in  some  way,  and  groups 
around  it  ideas  of  a  like  nature ;  it  lends  them 
its  strength,  and  in  turn  derives  increased 
power  from  them.  It  is  a  close  union;  even 
more  than  that,  it  is  a  solidarity  of  such  a 
nature  that  anything  which  weakens  one  of 
the  parties  concerned  weakens  the  other,  and 
whatever  strengthens  one  strengthens  the 

[317] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

other.  This  is  particularly  true  of  all  tend- 
encies of  a  sexual  nature.  The  images  con- 
jured up  along  these  lines  have  a  very  con- 
siderable power  of  realization.  They  react 
with  astonishing  rapidity  upon  the  repro- 
ductive organs.  When  the  feeling  is  excited, 
it  completely  invades  the  intelligence  and 
tends  to  produce  a  violent  suggestion  that 
almost  becomes  an  hallucination ;  inversely  no 
tendency  is  more  easily  awakened  by  ideas 
or  mental  pictures.  The  role  of  the  imagina- 
tion is  so  great  in  the  passion  of  love,  that  no 
words  could  exaggerate  it.  In  an  idle  mind 
especially,  one  might  say  that  the  automatic 
part  of  thought  has  this  kind  of  desire  for 
its  chief  object.  And  the  proof  of  this  is  that 
love  only  becomes  the  dominant  business  of 
people  in  court  life,  or  "in  society, "  because 
worldly  people  live  in  the  most  deplorable 
idleness.  To  people  who  are  busy  with  their 
work,  it  is  only  what  it  should  be  normally. 

It  is  also  a  very  great  misfortune  that  in 
such  a  difficult  struggle,  the  student,  instead 
of  being  helped  and  encouraged  by  the  en- 
vironment in  which  he  lives,  is  met  on  every 
han4  by  excitement  and  stimulation.  The 

[318] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

slightest  accident  may  break  the  frail  helm 
of  his  rudder,  and  deliver  his  soul  over  to 
the  automatism  of  passion.  The  mind  of  a 
young  man  is  like  the  sea  in  March,  never 
calm,  and  altho  it  may  appear  to  be  so,  an 
attentive  examination  will  reveal  a  slow  un- 
derswell  which  the  slightest  wind  would  trans- 
form into  mighty  billows.  It  is  of  the  great- 
est importance,  therefore,  to  avoid  anything 
that  would  raise  even  a  momentary  storm. 
But  how  can  one  do  that  when  one  lives  in 
the  midst  of  a  society  and  surrounded  by  a 
literature  that  abounds  in  excitement.  The 
very  atmosphere  that  a  young  man  breathes 
is  enervating.  Everything  around  him  seems 
to  combine  to  disturb  his  powers  of  discern- 
ment concerning  the  pleasures  of  love.  He 
is  only  too  well  aware  of  the  fact  that  the 
large  majority  of  "well  bred"  people  are 
strangers  to  artistic  and  intellectual  pleas- 
ures, and  also  that  they  are  often  incapable 
of  any  deep  or  lasting  enjoyment  of  the 
beauties  of  nature.  Sensual  pleasures,  which 
are  accessible,  not  only  to  man,  but  to  nearly 
all  the  animals,  demand  no  prolonged  sacri- 
fices, they  are  easily  obtained,  and  soon  the 

[319] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

more  delicate  tastes  disappear,  and  one  is 
incapable  of  any  pleasures  save  those  of  a 
grosser  nature. 

The  result  of  this  general  state  of  affairs 
is  that  social  reunions  are  often  the  occasions 
of  purely  sensual  excitation  under  the  mask 
of  various  pretexts,  music,  theatricals,  etc. 
The  young  man,  who,  on  his  return  from  an 
evening  entertainment,  goes  back  to  his  mod- 
est student  quarters,  enters  them  with  imagi- 
nation much  disturbed.  The  contrast  between 
the  lights,  the  dancing,  and  the  suggestive 
toilets,  and  his  poor  workroom,  is  deadly  to 
his  peace  of  mind.  There  is  no  more  discour- 
aging impression  for  him,  for  he  has  not  yet 
acquired  the  habit  of  criticizing  these  pre- 
tended pleasures.  It  has  never  penetrated 
his  mind  that,  rich  as  he  is  in  strength  and 
in  illusions,  he  is  incapable  of  perceiving  what 
he  is.  He  conjures  up  a  world  out  of  every- 
thing he  has  experienced,  and  peoples  it  with 
personages  whom  he  moves  about  at  will.  His 
illusion  is  so  real  that  it  comes  between  him 
and  the  reality  which  it  hides.  It  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  if  by  contrast  his  calm,  tranquil, 
free  and  truly  happy  life  seems  to  him  un- 

[3201 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

bearably  lonely  and  monotonous.  It  never 
occurs  to  the  poor  fellow  to  look  within  for 
comfort.  Nothing  in  his  previous  education 
has  forewarned  him  of  these  dangers.  Quite 
the  contrary!  The  literature  of  the  day  is 
largely  a  glorification  of  the  sexual  act.  If 
we  were  to  believe  many  of  our  novelists,  and 
many  of  the  most  celebrated  poets  of  France, 
the  noblest  achievement  which  is  offered  to 
a  human  being,  is  rne  satisfaction  of  an  in- 
stinct which  we  have  in  common  with  the  ani- 
mals !  It  is  no  longer  our  mental  powers,  or 
our  actions  in  which  we  should  take  pride,  but 
rather  a  physiological  necessity.  '  '  The  thing 
that  Carlyle  criticized  most  strongly  in 
Thackeray,  is  that  he  depicted  love  after  the 
French  fashion,  as  extending  through  our  en- 
tire existence  and  constituting  its  chief  in- 
terest; while  love,  on  the  contrary  (or  the 
passion  that  is  called  love),  is  limited  to  a 
very  few  years  of  man's  life,  and  even  in  this 
insignificant  fraction  of  time,  it  is  only  one 
of  the  objects  in  which  man  is  interested, 
among  a  host  of  others  which  are  infinitely 
more  important.  * '  To  tell  the  truth,  the  whole 
affair  of  love  is  such  a  miserable  trifle,  that 

[321] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

in  an  heroic  epoch  no  one  would  spare  it  even 
a  thought,  much  less  speak  about  it."  ' 

Then  Manzoni2  "I  am,"  says  he,  "one  of 
those  who  hold  that  we  ought  not  to  speak 
of  passionate  love  in  such  a  way  as  to  incline 
the  minds  of  our  readers  toward  it.  y  v  . 
Such  love  is  necessary  in  this  world,  but 
there  will  always  be  enough  of  it,  it  is  really 
not  necessary  to  take  the  trouble  to  cultivate 
it,  for  by  attempting  to  cultivate  it,  one  does 
nothing  more  than  to  provoke  it  in  places 
where  there  is  no  necessity  for  it.  There  are 
other  sentiments  of  which  morality  stands  in 
need,  and  which  a  writer  should,  according  to 
his  ability,  instil  more  and  more  deeply  into 
the  soul,  such  as  pity,  the  love  of  one's  neigh- 
bor, gentleness,  forgiveness,  and  the  spirit 
of  sacrifice. ' ' 

These  words  of  Carlyle  and  Manzoni  are 
among  the  most  sensible  that  have  ever  been 
written  on  this  important  subject.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  absurd  tendency  of  literature  to 
cater  to  the  public,  that  is  to  say,  rather  the 

1  Quoted  by  Mrs.  Carlyle. 

2  Quoted  by  Bonghi,  in  ' '  Eevue  des  Deux  Mondes. ' '    July 
15,  1893,  p.  359. 

[322] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

literature  of  the  second  rank,  there  are  a 
great  many  sophisms  in  current  use,  which 
disarm  the  student  from  the  start  in  his  at- 
tempts at  mastering  himself.  Physicians  are 
largely  responsible  for  these  sophisms.  They 
utter  them  in  that  decisive  tone,  and  with  that 
absolute  faith  with  which  many  of  them 
are  accustomed  to  set  forth  as  indubitable 
axioms,  propositions  based  upon  perfectly 
childish  arguments. 

In  the  first  place  they  quote  the  example  of 
the  animals,  calling  upon  the  entire  series  to 
prove  the  natural  necessity  which  accompa- 
nies these  physical  functions.  As  if  the  long 
periods  of  intermittance  of  the  function  in 
the  majority  of  animals  were  not  against  the 
argument,  and  as  if  on  the  other  hand  the 
honor  of  mankind  did  not  consist  in  this  very 
thing  of  knowing  how  to  free  one's  self  from 
one's  purely  animal  needs.  What,  moreover, 
can  be  a  necessity  which  so  many  men  have 
learned  to  do  without?  Has  not  one  a  right 
to  be  astonished  when  one  reads  in  the  works 
of  a  celebrated  physician,  "the  passion  of 
love  holds  the  most  important  place  in  life — 
when  one  reaches  a  certain  age,  when  the 

[323] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

only  hope  one  can  entertain  is  not  to  descend 
the  path  that  leads  to  old  age  too  quickly, 
then  one  recognizes  that  all  is  vanity  save 
love."  Physical  love  is,  of  course,  under- 
stood, for  it  is  the  chief  subject  of  discussion 
in  the  chapter.  What !  do  all  intellectual  and 
artistic  joys,  the  love  of  nature,  the  effort  to 
mitigate  the  misery  of  the  poor  and  the  out- 
casts of  society,  the  love  of  one's  family  and 
one's  neighbor,  count  for  nothing,  and  would 
one  exchange  all  these  pleasures  for  a  few 
moments'  enjoyment  of  a  spasm  which  one 
has  in  common  with  the  animals? 

If  Eenan  himself  had  uttered  such  words, 
we  would  have  understood  it,  for  this  great 
stylist  never  brought  his  studies  to  bear  on 
purely  humane  interests.  His  hypocritical 
optimism,  an  external  sign  of  a  mind  which 
after  all  was  mediocre,  would  have  found 
nothing  repelling  in  such  ideas.  But  that  a 
physician  who  is  every  day  grappling  with 
the  problem  of  human  suffering,  and  who, 
every  day,  must  see  men  die,  should  express 
such  an  opinion  is  amazing.  But  yet  again, 
if  that  were  the  supreme  end  of  human  life, 
why  should  senile  amours  appear  so  despic- 

[324] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

able?  And  what,  should  we  say,  would  be  the 
existence  of  old  men,  who,  by  their  age,  are 
put  without  the  pale  of  humanity,  or  rather 
animality  1  We  must  frankly  admit  that  such 
axioms  are  low  and  ignoble,  and  as  they  de- 
note such  a  pitiful  and  false  point  of  view  of 
life  in  those  who  utter  them,  we  are  stunned 
to  meet  them  in  scientific  men,  who  ought  to 
know  how  to  draw  logical  deductions. 

Let  us  examine  our  whole  existence  and 
the  existence  of  others.  Is  it  not  evident  that 
with  the  great  majority  of  peasants,  working 
folk,  and  people  who  lead  a  healthy,  active 
life,  who  do  not  eat  to  the  point  of  indiges- 
tion every  day,  nor  spend  twelve  hours  in 
bed,  passion,  as  Carlyle  exprest  it,  is  mere- 
ly an  hors-d'oeuvre.  Let  the  idle  be  what 
they  are,  we  know  what  they  are,  for  the 
journals  and  books  that  are  meant  to  excite 
them  are  written  for  them.  But  how  hard  is 
their  punishment !  When  they  reach  the  age 
when  such  satisfactions  are  denied  them,  life 
becomes  tame  and  loses  all  its  interest.  They 
present  the  ridiculous  and  repellent  spectacle 
of  impotent  old  libertines.  What  an  absurd 
statement  it  would  be  to  say  that  there  is  no 

[325] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

other  occupation  for  an  old  man  than  to  take 
delight  in  sensual  images.  Would  it  not  be 
a  hundred  times  better  to  be  able  to  con- 
gratulate himself,  as  Cicero  did,  upon  having 
escaped  becoming  a  slave  to  his  passions,  and 
to  devote  himself  to  politics,  art,  science,  and 
philosophy? 

The  stupid  idea  that  passion  is  the  whole 
of  life  is  often  accompanied  by  monstrous 
sophisms.  It  is  said  that  chastity  is  detri- 
mental to  health !  It  has,  however,  never  been 
noted  that  in  those  religious  orders  where 
chastity  is  the  absolute  rule,  that  disease  is 
more  rampant  than  where  prostitution  is  the 
order.  If  a  young  man  were  shut  up  in  a 
room  without  books,  or  without  any  possible 
occupation,  it  is  perfectly  certain  that  the 
sensual  suggestions  would  become  irresistible, 
and  would  produce  serious  disturbances,  not 
of  the  health,  but  of  the  mind.  But  to  an 
active,  energetic  young  man,  the  suggestion 
never  becomes  incoercible. 

Then  again,  it  is  possible  to  go  on  a  wholly 
different  tack,  and  apply  one's  self  to  work 
which  will  quickly  get  the  better  of  the  de- 
sire. On  the  other  hand,  the  problematic 

[326] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

dangers  of  continence  are  as  nothing  com- 
pared to  the  consequences  of  excess  in  the  op- 
posite direction.  When  in  Paris  alone,  there 
are  two  hospitals  for  diseases  of  this  origin, 
when  every  year  the  number  of  people  at- 
tacked with  softening  of  the  brain,  and  loco- 
motor  ataxia,  in  consequence  of  their  excesses 
is  increasing,  it  is  laughable,  to  say  the  least, 
to  find  the  author  of  an  enormous  book  on 
hygiene,  of  1,500  pages,  announce  that  con- 
tinence undermines  the  health! 

Is  it  not  evident  that  venereal  excesses  are 
detrimental,  and  that  on  the  contrary  conti- 
nence gives  intelligence,  vigor,  and  an  abun- 
dance of  healthy  energy  to  the  whole  or- 
ganism! Moreover,  does  the  method  of  tri- 
umphing over  our  appetites  consist  of  giving 
in  to  them  altogether?  The  very  beginners 
in  psychology  themselves,  know  that  the  es- 
sential characteristics  of  any  appetite  is  a 
sort  of  insatiability,  which  grows  more  and 
more  exacting,  the  more  one  gives  in  to  it. 
This  is  a  curious  way  to  check  the  presump- 
tion of  the  enemy,  to  beat  a  retreat  the  mo- 
ment he  shows  his  face.  But,  above  all,  it  is 
a  proof  of  the  greatest  ignorance  of  self,  to 

[327] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

expect  to  master  the  sexual  appetites  by  con- 
cessions. To  give  in  here  is  not  to  appease, 
but  to  stimulate  them.  The  only  way  to  mas- 
ter sensuality  is  to  struggle  against  it  with 
every  means  at  one's  command.  But  let  us 
leave  these  medical  theories,  they  are  so 
naive  and  childish  that  they  only  furnish 
fresh  proof  of  the  radical  lack  in  the  studies 
of  logic,  psychology,  and  morals  in  the  course 
of  the  majority  of  students  of  medicine. 

The  desire,  therefore,  is  the  thing  against 
which  we  must  struggle.  It  is  true  that  vic- 
tory is  difficult.  It  is  the  supreme  triumph 
in  the  mastery  of  self.  When  it  is  the  cus- 
tom to  sneer  at  the  purity  of  a  young  man  of 
twenty  years  of  age,  when  debauchery  is 
looked  upon  as  a  proof  of  virility,  is  it  not 
marvelous  to  think  of  what  a  complete  re- 
versal of  things  can  be  effected  by  language, 
and  by  a  few  cheap  formulas?  Does  not  the 
possession  of  the  force  of  all  forces,  pure 
energy — the  liberated  and  victorious  will — 
mean  that  we  must  retain  the  mastery  in  the 
struggle  against  this  powerful  instinct  ?  Man- 
hood lies  here,  not  elsewhere;  it  lies  in  this 
mastery  of  self,  and  the  Church  is  right  in 

[328] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

considering  chastity  as  the  supreme  guaran- 
tee of  the  energy  of  the  will — an  energy 
which  in  its  turn  guarantees  for  the  priest 
the  possibility  of  all  other  sacrifices. 

But  altho  this  triumph  is  possible,  it  is  not 
easy.  There,  as  elsewhere,  the  more  the  con- 
quest is  to  be  desired,  the  greater  must  be  the 
expenditure  of  effort  and  persevering  skill. 
The  remedies  are  as  varied  as  the  causes. 

It  is  first  necessary  to  combat  the  immedi- 
ately predisposing  causes.  One  must  regu- 
late one's  sleep  most  rigorously,  not  to  go 
to  bed  until  one  is  tired,  and  to  get  up  the 
moment  one  awakes.  One  should  avoid  a 
soft  bed,  that  tempts  one  to  laziness  in  the 
morning.  If  our  will  is  too  feeble  to  make 
us  spring  out  of  Bed  the  moment  we  awake, 
then  we  must  have  recourse  to  some  person 
who  has  no  hesitation  in  assuming  the  re- 
sponsibility of  waking  us  up  in  spite  of  our 
protestations. 

Furthermore,  the  student  must  watch  his 
diet,  and  avoid  heating  dishes,  a  great  quan- 
tity of  meat  and  strong  wine,  with  which  he 
should  have  nothing  to  do  at  his  age.  The 
best  thing  for  him  to  do  would  be  to  choose  a, 

[329] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

lodging  at  some  distance  from  the  lecture- 
rooms,  a  quiet,  cheerful  room  with  plenty  of 
air  and  sunlight,  and  often  to  eat  some  easily 
prepared  dish  at  home.  He  ought  to  avoid 
sitting  still  for  too  long  at  a  time ;  he  should 
keep  the  air  in  his  room  fresh,  and  at  a  mod- 
erate temperature.  He  ought  to  go  out  every 
evening,  while  meditating  on  his  work  for  the 
morrow,  and  walk  until  he  feels  tired,  then 
go  straight  to  bed.  These  walks  he  should 
take  as  a  regular  habit,  no  matter  what  the 
weather  may  be,  for,  as  an  English  humorist 
has  remarked,  the  rain  always  falls  much 
more  heavily,  and  the  weather  is  much  worse 
to  him  who  looks  down  into  the  street  from 
the  windows  of  his  room  than  for  him  who 
is  not  afraid  to  go  out  into  it. 

For  the  young  men  who  live  on  a  moderate 
diet,  and  who  follow  the  laws  of  wise  hygiene, 
physical  excitements  of  this  nature  are  nei- 
ther frequent  nor  difficult  to  dismiss;  and 
the  struggle  against  sensuality  will  not  be 
difficult  if  the  stimulation  that  comes  from 
the  intellect  does  not  bring  any  definite 
images  to  the  support  of  the  physical  sug- 
gestion, or  draw  the  attention  to  dwell  on  it, 

[330] 


DAY-DBEAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

We  have  now  studied  at  some  length  the 
close  relationship  existing  between  the  intel- 
ligence and  the  passions.  Passion,  which  in 
the  nature  of  things  is  blind,  can  do  nothing 
without  the  help  of  the  intelligence,  but  it 
succeeds  in  winning  the  intelligence  to  be  its 
accomplice.  Passion  can  stir  up,  and  use  for 
its  own  end  a  perfect  torrent  of  ideas,  and 
their  accompanying  feelings,  to  which  even 
the  most  seasoned  will  can  offer  no  resistance. 
One  must  therefore  be  on  guard  to  prevent 
one's  thoughts  from  lending  their  assistance. 
As  a  general  rule,  it  is  dangerous  to  try  to 
struggle  against  sensuality.  The  very  fact 
of  turning  our  attention  to  it,  even  for  the 
purpose  of  combating  it,  serves  to  strengthen 
it.  Courage  here  means  flight.  We  must 
resort  to  stratagem  in  our  battle.  To  attack 
the  enemy  from  the  front  is  to  rush  to  defeat. 
While  the  most  brilliant  intellectual  con- 
quests are  achieved  by  thinking  of  one  sub- 
ject all  the  time,  the  victory  over  sensuality 
is  won  by  not  thinking  about  it  at  all.  One 
must  at  any  cost  prevent  the  union  of  ideas 
with  a  newly  born  temptation,  and  the  grad- 
ual awakening  of  sensual  images  which  are 

[331] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

still  lying  dormant.  One  must  avoid  reading 
romances,  and,  above  all,  journals  or  books 
which  have  indecent  suggestions.  There  are 
some  pages  in  Diderot's  works  which  produce 
the  same  effect  as  if  one  had  taken  a  dose  of 
some  violent  aphrodisiac.  One  must  avoid 
looking  at  obscene  pictures  or  illustrations 
which  are  even  more  upsetting  to  the  tran- 
quillity of  the  spirit  than  written  descriptions. 
One  must  avoid  the  society  of  lewd  compan- 
ions ;  one  must  foresee  the  possibility  of  dan- 
ger in  trifling  details  so  that  one  can  never 
be  caught  unaware  by  temptation.  At  first  a 
simple  thought,  as  yet  wholly  powerless, 
steals  into  the  mind.  If  one  is  on  one 's  guard 
at  this  juncture  nothing  is  easier  than  to  put 
the  importunate  visitor  out,  but  if  one  be- 
gins to  form  definite  mental  pictures,  and  if 
one  takes  pleasure  in  building  them  up,  and 
experiences  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  in  them, 
it  is  too  late. 

This  is  the  reason  why  mental  work  is  the 
sovereign  remedy.  When  the  mind  is  busily 
occupied,  the  timid  solicitations  of  passion 
are  checked  in  their  helpless  state,  on  the 
threshold  of  consciousness.  No  audience  is 

[332] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

granted  to  them.  They  have  no  chance  to 
enter,  except  when  the  mind  is  empty.  This 
is,  in  fact,  all  the  more  true  because  we  hold 
that  laziness  is  the  mother  of  vice.  The  temp- 
tation gains  entrance  in  moments  of  revery 
or  when  the  mind  is  unoccupied.  When  the 
attention  is  brought  to  bear  on  it,  it  becomes 
definite  and  more  strong.  Memories  grad- 
ually awaken,  and  the  forces  of  the  animal 
nature  are  ready  to  become  organized  the 
moment  the  rational  will  abdicates,  and  leaves 
the  field  free  to  the  brute  powers. 

We  may  also  say  without  fear  of  making  a 
mistake,  that  the  idle  and  lazy  are  almost 
habitually  enslaved  by  their  sensuality;  not 
only  because  the  emptiness  of  their  minds 
leaves  consciousness  open,  as  it  were,  to  sex- 
ual suggestions,  but  also  because  a  man,  es- 
pecially a  young  man,  needs  pleasure  and 
stimulating  experiences — and  when  he  does 
not  seek  such  pleasure  or  stimulation  in  in- 
tellectual work,  or  in  healthy,  robust  amuse- 
ments, it  is  fatal  if  he  demands  still  more 
intense  and  violent  experiences  such  as  are 
furnished  by  vicious  habits  or  debauchery. 

This  is  why  it  is  not  enough  simply  to  have 

[333] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

the  mind  occupied  in  order  to  withstand  sex- 
ual passion — such  occupation  must  carry  with 
it  a  feeling  of  pleasure,  and  the  joy  of  pro- 
ductive work.  Desultory  or  too  diversified 
work,  with  the  attention  distracted  by  a  great 
variety  of  objects,  brings  no  joy,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  a  feeling  of  irritation  and  discon- 
tent with  one's  self.  Eegular  methodical 
work  alone  can  bring  powerful  interest  to  the 
mind,  an  interest  that  will  continue  and  last. 
It  brings  the  same  sort  of  joy  that  the  moun- 
tain climber  feels  when  he  sees  that  through 
his  own  energy  the  summit  which  he  wishes 
to  reach  becomes  nearer  every  moment.  It 
alone  can  fortify  the  mind  with  a  granite 
rampart  against  the  invasion  of  sexual  sug- 
gestions. If  one  combines  energetic  habits 
with  such  joyous  work,  and  if  one  learns  to 
seek  the  pleasures  which  we  have  enumerated 
above,  the  only  thing  that  remains  to  insure 
one's  safety  is  to  furnish  adequate  satisfac- 
tion to  those  vague  aspirations  which  are 
awakened  at  puberty.  Nothing  is  easier  at 
those  happy  years  which  stretch  from  eight- 
een to  twenty-five  than  to  become  enamored 
of  nature,  of  the  mountains,  the  woods,  the 

[334] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

sea,  and  to  love,  even  to  the  point  of  passion, 
everything  that  is  noble,  fine  and  inspiring; 
the  arts,  literature,  science,  history,  without 
mentioning  the  new  possibilities  which  are 
constantly  offering  themselves  for  work  along 
social  lines.  How  well  a  young  man  who  fol- 
lowed such  a  program  would  be  paid  for  his 
work.  His  increased  vigor,  and  keener  in- 
telligence, and  his  cultivated  sympathies 
would  make  his  life  worthy  of  envy.  Even 
his  failures,  because  of  his  ability  to  palliate 
their  bitterness,  will  in  no  way  detract  from 
his  manly  dignity,  for  he  will  be  able  to  re- 
cover himself,  and  resolutely  resume  the 
struggle.  Absolute  victory  is  hardly  possible, 
but  it  is  counted  as  victory  in  this  combat 
not  to  be  conquered  too  often,  and  never  to 
lose  heart. 


Ill 

The  two  forms  in  which  sensuality  ex- 
presses itself  in  the  life  of  the  student  must 
now  be  studied  at  closer  range.  We  have  al  - 
ready  stated  that  the  standard  of  sexual  mo- 
rality among  students  is  far  from  high,  and 

[335] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

this  comes  from  the  fact  that  they  are  often 
left  alone  in  a  large  city  without  any  pr.oper 
supervision.  Moreover,  a  great  many  of 
them  lose  the  freshness  of  their  spirits  and 
dissipate  their  best  energies  in  vulgar  excess. 
Nobody  warns  them ;  and  intoxicated  as  they 
are,  with  their  new  freedom,  it  is  a  long  time 
before  they  can  get  rid  of  the  illusions  on 
which  they  have  based  their  ideas  of  life. 
Nobody  has  ever  made  them  stop  to  think 
about  the  nature  of  their  pleasures ;  and  that 
is  why  it  is  so  long  before  they  begin  to  sus- 
pect the  important  part  that  vanity  plays  in 
all  their  indulgences. 

The  companions  whom  they  meet  in  the 
restaurants  are  not  in  a  position  to  enlighten 
them.  Many  of  them  have  mistresses,  and 
partly  because  they  are  duped  themselves, 
and  partly  because  they  want  to  show  off, 
they  exaggerate  the  delights  of  the  situation 
without  ever  mentioning  the  fact  that  their 
joys  are  often  somewhat  doubtful,  and  very 
dearly  purchased.  They  are  obliged  to  live 
in  the  company  of  coarse,  stupid  women,  and 
put  up  with  their  whims  and  silliness,  their 
bad  temper,  and  their  extravagances.  These 

[  336  ] 


BAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

latter  in  return  give  them  material  pleasures, 
but  no  happiness.  The  majority  of  students 
who  keep  such  women  do  so  out  of  pure 
vanity,  merely  that  they  can  boast  about 
them,  and  be  seen  walking  with  them.  If  it 
were  not  for  the  "gallery"  they  could  not 
stand  them  for  a  week.1 

There  is  an  absolute  lack  of  critical  per- 
ception of  values  in  such  cases.  On  one  side 
of  the  scale  there  is  material  pleasure  and 
the  satisfaction  of  vanity ;  but  over  against  it 
one  must  put  the  lost  mornings  which  should 
have  been  given  to  earnest,  happy-hearted 
work,  but  which  are  replaced  by  miserable 
days  of  exhaustion,  physical  ruin  and  be- 
sotted habits.  Then  to  these  must  be  added 
the  lost  opportunities  for  taking  delightful 
trips,  the  debts  to  be  paid  later,  the  regrets 
of  after  years,  and  the  disappointments  and 
degradation  of  the  present. 

There  is  only  one  remedy,  and  that  is  to 
fly  the  danger,  and  if  it  is  too  late,  to  break 
off  resolutely,  change  one's  surroundings, 

i  See  in  connection  with  this  a  very  good  chapter  by 
Maxime  du  Camp  in  his  "Testament  literaire:  Le  CrSpus- 
cule;  Propos  du  Soir,"  1893,  Chap.  II,  "La  Vanite"!  " 

[337] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

leave  the  companions  whose  influence  seems 
to  be  bad,  and,  if  necessary,  change  one's 
residence,  or  even  one's  neighborhood.  One 
must  lead  an  absolutely  different  life  in 
thought,  in  words,  and  actions,  from  the  one 
we  are  considering  now;  and  above  all,  one 
must  bring  a  very  critical  and  unfavorable 
examination  to  bear  upon  the  pleasure  that 
may  be  derived  from  the  company  of  courte- 
zans. If  the  student  would,  for  a  fortnight, 
cast  up  a  little  account  of  these  fleeting  loves, 
and  would  write  down  every  day,  after  think- 
ing the  matter  over  carefully,  a  list  of  his 
pleasures,  with  their  pro  rata  value,  and  then 
in  an  opposite  column  a  list  of  his  ennuis 
and  annoyances  and  disgusts,  he  would 
be  stupefied  at  the  results.  He  would  be 
still  further  amazed  if  every  evening,  or 
better  still,  every  two  hours,  he  made  a  note 
of  his  ' i  state  of  mind. ' '  He  would  then  begin 
to  get  some  idea  of  the  extraordinary  illusion 
which  is  falsifying  the  total  of  each  day  and 
each  month,  and  that  makes  him  believe  he 
is  amusing  himself,  or  being  amused,  when 
each  moment,  taken  by  itself,  is  a  mopent  of 
boredom  or  disgust,  or,  to  say  the  least,  in- 

[338] 


PAY-DBEAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

difference.  The  error  is  due  to  a  curious  phe- 
nomenon of  auto-suggestion,  which  dispels  the 
memory  of  the  reality  and  puts  in  its  place 
an  invented,  falsified  memory.  This  pseudo- 
memory  is  a  state  of  mind  manufactured  out 
of  whole  cloth.  It  is  the  state  that  he  ex- 
pected to  be  in,  and  that  according  to  his  in- 
nocent fancy  he  feels  ought  to  have  really 
existed,  but  which  never  for  a  single  moment 
was  actually  present  in  his  consciousness. 
Our  power  of  illusion  along  these  lines  is 
even  so  great  that  very  often  we  pay  no  at- 
tention to  the  real  state  of  mind  in  which  we 
actually  are,  because  this  real  state  does  not 
tally  with  what  we  think  it  ought  to  be.  This 
illusion  is  nowhere  so  strong  or  so  deplorable 
as  when  it  comes  to  the  valuation  put  upon 
the  pleasures  of  such  women's  company.  We 
repeat  our  statement,  almost  all  the  moments 
spent  with  these  poor  creatures  whose  silly 
brains  are  filled  with  coarse  or  stupid  ideas 
and  intolerable  whims,  are,  in  themselves,  dis- 
agreeable; but  the  sum  of  these  disagreeable 
moments  are  transformed  by  vanity  into  an 
agreeable  memory.  We  do  not  hesitate  to 
state  it  once  again,  that  he  never  takes  into 

[339] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

account  either  the  time  he  has  wasted  or  the 
money  he  has  foolishly  thrown  away,  or  the 
intellectual  ruin  which  follows  these  excesses. 
Neither  does  he  give  a  thought  to  the  true 
pleasures  which  he  has  sacrificed,  to  the  mu- 
seums he  could  have  visited,  or  the  inspiring 
lectures  he  might  have  attended.  He  forgets 
the  interesting  conversations  and  the  long 
walks  he  might  have  had  with  his  chosen 
friends.  He  does  not  realize  that  the  disgust 
which  follows  one  of  these  orgies  is  one  of 
the  most  unpleasant  and  contemptible  feel- 
ings he  can  experience  in  life.  He  never 
dreams  that  he  has  deprived  himself  of  the 
opportunity  of  visiting  the  Alps  or  the  Pyre- 
nees, or  of  spending  a  little  time  in  Brittany 
during  his  vacation.  He  forgets  that  for  the 
price  of  a  few  nights  spent  in  debauchery  he 
could  have  taken  a  trip  in  Belgium  or  Hol- 
land or  up  the  Rhine,  or  in  Italy.  He  has 
no  conception  of  the  rich  harvest  of  memories 
that  can  be  stored  up  at  twenty  years  of  age 
from  such  travels,  memories  that  he  will  re- 
fresh in  later  years  to  brighten  days  of  sor- 
row and  toil.  Another  thing  that  he  will  have 
missed  are  the  beautiful  books  of  art,  and 

[340] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

works  on  travel,  etc.,  the  engravings  and 
paintings  that  he  might  have  had  as  lifelong 
companions,  and  which  would  have  always 
been  at  his  hand  in  the  long  winter  evenings, 
but  which  he  never  bought. 

Even  the  vanity  which  he  has  gratified  by 
satisfying  his  desire  to  make  this  kind  of  dis- 
play, is  of  an  inferior  quality.  It  can  not  be 
compared  with  the  pride  which  a  student  feels 
in  successes  due  to  work;  nor  even  to  the 
thousand  little  excusable  vanities  of  the  stu- 
dent who  is  proud  of  his  artistic  treasures,  or 
who  likes  to  talk  about  his  travels.  The  ex- 
istence of  the  student  who  "sees  life"  is,  in 
reality,  horribly  monotonous  and  unprofit- 
able; and  even  more  than  that,  it  is  stupid, 
nauseatingly  stupid. 


IV 

The  social  consequences  of  prostitution  are 
deplorable.  This  unfortunate  kind  of  life, 
called,  probably  in  mockery,  a  "life  of  pleas- 
ure," reduces  a  young  man's  morals  to  chaos, 
and  often  leads  him  to  the  most  barbarous 

[341] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

vices.  In  fact,  the  dangers  which  threaten 
the  student's  health  are  so  great,  and  the  ef- 
fects of  the  waste  of  time  and  of  money,  last 
through  so  many  years  that,  taking  all  these 
reasons  into  account,  no  young  man  of  spirit 
would  hesitate  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf  and 
make  good,  honest  resolutions. 

But  there  is  another  form  of  sensuality 
which  we  ought  to  touch  upon  without  any 
false  modesty,  whose  ravages  are  none  the 
less  dreadful  for  being  secret.  It  is  a  vice 
which  has  nothing  seductive  in  it  of  itself  and 
one  in  which  vanity  throws  no  glamour  over 
the  unworthy  pleasures  which  it  affords. 

It  is  purely  and  simply  a  vice,  and  which 
one  hides  because  one  is  ashamed  of  it.  It 
is  manifestly  a  sign  of  degeneration,  and 
should  be  considered  pathological. 

For  these  reasons  the  treatment  is  simple 
and  the  cure  certain.  No  sophisms  conceal 
the  ugliness  of  this  deplorable  habit. 

The  unfortunate  youth  who  is  afflicted  with 
this  form  of  neurosis  has  only  his  own  sen- 
sations to  consider  without  their  being  tinged 
by  extraneous  sentiments.  This  renders  the 
struggle,  I  will  not  say  easy  but  possible.  It 

[342] 


DAY-DREAMS  AND  SENSUALITY 

is  possible  to  make  a  complete  "transfer  of 
accounts/'  and  to  apply  the  superabundant 
energy  to  another  page  of  the  budget.  The 
whole  trouble  comes  from  the  imagination, 
therefore  it  is  wise,  the  moment  the  sugges- 
tion springs  up  in  the  mind,  to  go  out  and 
find  someone  else  to  bear  one  company,  or 
else  to  plunge  energetically  into  one's  work. 
Here,  more  than  anywhere  else,  the  direct 
struggle  is  dangerous,  and  victory  lies  in 
flight.  One  must  go  on  one's  way  with  the 
same  indifference  that  one  assumes  when  dogs 
are  barking,  knowing  that  the  more  one  com- 
mands them  to  stop,  the  harder  they  bark. 

One  must  make  every  effort  to  render  one's 
lapses  as  few  and  as  far  apart  as  possible. 

We  must  add  still  further,  that  the  greatest 
cause  of  this  vice,  is  that  empty-minded  state 
that  lets  every  suggestion  have  its  way,  and 
the  absence  of  healthy,  vigorous  stimulation. 
The  great  remedy,  therefore,  we  must  say 
once  more,  is  to  be  found  in  methodical  work ; 
that  is  to  say,  in  hearty,  productive  work,  and 
iu  a.  life  full  of  active,  energetic  pleasures. 


[343] 


II 


ENEMIES  TO  COMBAT:  COMPANIONS, 
ACQUAINTANCES,  ETC. 

HAVING  finished  the  main  part  of  our  work, 
the  secondary  dangers  which  threaten  the 
work  of  the  student,  remain  to  be  rapidly  re- 
viewed. He  should  use  the  greatest  care  in 
choosing  his  companions.  He  will  meet 
among  those  who  pass  as  his  friends,  the 
surest  enemies  of  his  future.  First,  there  is 
a  certain  number  of  rich  young  men,  who, 
lacking  the  stimulus  that  the  need  of  support 
would  give  them,  and  spoiled  by  the  easy  hab- 
its of  their  home,  pass  their  youth  foolishly 
in  preparing  a  blank  existence  for  their  old 
age,  and  who,  feeling  that  they  themselves 
are,  after  all,  rather  contemptible,  ridicule 
the  hard  workers  in  order  to  hide  their  own 
inner  feeling  of  shame. 

But  there  is  another  species  of  mind  that 
is  still  more  formidable  and  that  begins  to 
work  its  ravages  even  at  college.  This  is 
the  class  to  whom  those  belong  whose  weak- 

[344] 


COMPANIONS,  ACQUAINTANCES,  ETC. 

ness  has  rendered  them  pessimistic,  and  who 
are  discouraged  even  before  the  fight.  Like 
all  helpless  people,  they  are  extremely  en- 
vious and  hypocritical,  and  basely  jealous. 
This  odious  state  of  mind  makes  them  prose- 
lytes of  a  new  order,  most  patient,  persever- 
ing proselytes,  whose  object  seems  to  be  to 
discourage  stronger  wills.  Their  presence  is 
always  depressing.  They  are  continually  on 
the  watch  for  failures  in  others,  and  they 
finally  acquire  a  most  unfortunate  influence. 
Conscious  of  their  own  weakness  and  the 
fatal  outlook  before  them,  they  seem  to  take 
pleasure  in  hindering  others  from  making  an 
effort. 

There  are  others  again  who  are  simply 
lazy,  who  beg  and  exhort  a  companion  to  do 
nothing;  they  try  to  lead  him  off  to  the  sa- 
loons, and  plan  to  bring  about  opportunities 
for  debauchery.  French  students  are  much 
better  in  certain  ways  than  German  students, 
who  are  banded  into  little  societies,  which 
take  away  all  initiative  and  all  independence 
and  lead  them  to  drink  to  excess.1 

i  Compare  Th.  de  Wyzewa ;  ' '  La  vie  et  les  moeurs  eii  Alle- 
tnagne,"  "Bevue  des  Deux  Mondes. "   March  15,  YearLXI. 

[345] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

They  are  more  sober  and  get  along  to  bet- 
ter advantage  by  themselves.  But  they  gen- 
erally exaggerate  the  extent  of  their  liberty. 
Altho  they  are  left  alone  in  apparent  liberty 
in  a  great  town,  nevertheless,  they  are  in 
bondage  wherever  they  go.  Yet  the  cause  of 
this  lies  in  themselves.  The  overpowering 
vanity  of  twenty  years  of  age  makes  them 
submit  docilely  to  public  opinion;  that  is  to 
say,  to  the  opinion  of  their  comrades,  and 
principally  of  the  most  good-for-nothing  fel- 
lows, who,  as  a  rule,  have  that  kind  of  au- 
thority which  comes  from  audacity  combined 
with  a  bold  bearing  and  a  cock-sure  manner 
and  peremptory  tone  and  violent  epithets  of 
abuse  for  all  right  and  proper  conduct.  They 
nearly  always  have  that  combination  of  quali- 
ties which  imposes  on  weak  wills,  and  they 
adopt  this  tone  with  every  one  with  whom 
they  have  anything  to  do.  Their  authority 
grows  by  the  strength  given  it  by  the  already 
confirmed  proselytes,  who  have  blindly  ac- 
cepted as  the  life  of  pleasure,  as  the  ideal 
life  of  a  student,  the  most  fatiguing,  empty, 
and  foolish  sort  of  existence  that  it  is  possible 
to  imagine.  They  ruin  the'ir  health  and  their 

[346] 


COMPANIONS,  ACQUAINTANCES,  ETC. 

intelligence  in  order  to  win  the  good  opinions 
of  tHose  whom  they  admire  and  whom  they 
servilely  imitate.  "If  every  man  stuck  to  his 
own  vices, "  Lord  Chesterfield1  remarks, 
' '  few  people  would  be  as  vicious  as  they  are ! ' ' 
To  shine  with  the  splendor  of  these  youths 
who  lead  a  life  of  pleasure,  is,  according  to 
the  same  author,  to  shine  with  the  unhealthy 
flicker  of  rotten  wood  in  the  dark.  The  truly 
independent  young  man  is  he  who  repulses 
such  suggestions,  and  who  knows  how  to  call 
this  kind  of  pleasure  by  its  true  name,  an 
unmitigated  bore  and  waste  of  time.  He 
knows  how  to  refuse,  politely  but  absolutely, 
all  such  invitations.  He  does  not  allow  him- 
self to  be  influenced  by  ridicule;  he  avoids 
being  drawn  into  discussions,  concerning  his 
work  and  the  questions  of  pleasure,  of  which 
he  can  plainly  see  the  outcome.  He  knows 
that  the  great  majority  of  his  companions 
have  never  reflected  upon  the  direction  of 
their  own  lives;  he  knows  that  they  are  car- 
ried along  as  if  by  a  whirlwind,  the  uncon- 
scious sport  of  external  forces,  blown  hither 

i' 'Letters  of  Lord  Chesterfield  to  his  son  Philip  Stan- 
hope. "    Letters  of  September  and  October,  1748. 

[347J 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

and  thither  without  will;  and  he  attributes 
no  more  importance  to  their  opinion  than  an 
alienist  does  to  that  of  the  unbalanced  people 
whom  he  examines.  Because  these  young 
people  have  absurd  prejudices,  it  is  absurd 
that  I,  who  am  fully  aware  of  their  stupidity, 
should  look  at  things  from  their  point  of 
view!  Should  I  sacrifice  my  liberty  and 
health  and  all  my  delight  in  work  to  avoid 
their  sarcasms  and  to  win  their  tolerance  or 
even  their  admiration!  I  know  that  their 
pleasures  only  bring  fatigue  and  leave  them 
in  a  state  of  stupefaction;  shall  I  therefore 
go  and  join  in  their  carouses?  Knowing,  as 
I  do,  that  popular  language  expresses  only 
the  mediocre  and  coarse  ideas  of  the  masses, 
should  I  submit  to  the  authority  of  epithets 
and  the  association  of  words  and  formulas 
and  pretended  axioms,  which  serve  to  legiti- 
mize the  triumph  of  the  beast  in  man  over  his 
rational  will  ?  Never  could  I  fall  so  low ;  soli- 
tude is  a  thousand  times  preferable.  It  is 
far  better  for  a  young  man  to  leave  the  stu- 
dent's quarters  behind  him  and  to  find  a  home 
by  himself  in  a  neighborhood  that  is  far 
enough  away  to  discourage  idle  companions, 

[348] 


COMPANIONS,  ACQUAINTANCES,  ETC. 

a  pleasant,  attractive  room,  that  is  scrupu- 
lously clean  and  bright  with  sunlight  and,  if 
possible,  gay  with  plants  or  a  glimpse  of 
green  from  the  windows.  He  should  then  go 
into  the  society  of  people  who  are  superior  to 
himself,  make  visits  to  his  professors,  let 
them  know  how  his  work  is  getting  on,  and 
tell  them  about  his  aspirations  and  his  dis- 
couragements, and  seek  among  them  to  find 
one  who  would  be,  as  it  were,  his  spiritual  di- 
rector. Instead  of  the  saloons  and  the  cafes, 
he  should  make  regular  visits  to  the  museums, 
and  take  walks  in  the  country,  and  enjoy 
conversation  in  his  own  home  with  one  or  two 
friends  of  steady  and  refined  character. 

As  to  the  attitude  of  the  student  toward 
clubs  and  associations,  he  ought  to  be  en- 
tirely in  sympathy  with  them.  The  majority 
of  young  men  would  profit  by  deserting  the 
restaurants  for  fraternity  houses.  They  will 
find  there,  it  is  true,  a  society  of  somewhat 
mediocre  caliber,  but  at  the  same  time,  they 
will  have  a  chance  to  meet  some  of  the  su- 
perior men  of  the  college,  and  they  will  learn 
to  know  each  other  and  sympathize  with  each 
other.  The  only  danger — which  is  great — 

[349] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

but  not  so  great  as  that  of  the  cafe  or  res- 
taurant, is  of  forming  those  habits  which  send 
their  roots  deeply  into  the  obscure  regions  of 
our  activity,  and  which,  little  by  little,  mas- 
ter our  will  and  prevent  its  development,  just 
as  Gulliver  was  fastened  to  the  earth  by  the 
thousands  of  fragile  bonds  made  of  his  hairs 
which  the  Lilliputians  had  fastened  to  as 
many  tiny  pegs  driven  into  the  earth.  The 
student,  little  by  little,  feels  a  craving  for  the 
excitement  of  the  society  of  his  fellows,  he 
wants  to  form  one  of  the  little  company, 
which  habitually  wastes  its  time  in  rooms 
filled  with  tobacco  smoke  and  in  doing  noth- 
ing during  the  hours  which  ought  to  be  de- 
voted to  taking  a  walk  in  the  open  air.  An- 
other very  great  danger,  is  the  great  number 
of  papers  and  reviews  which  waste  one's 
mental  energy  by  scattering  it,  and  conse- 
quently annihilating  its  influence.  Such  read- 
ing is  apt  to  throw  one's  thoughts  into  a 
state  of  feverish  excitement  similar  to  that 
which  stimulants  give  the  body.  This  excite- 
ment is  doubly  injurious,  injurious  in  itself, 
because  of  the  restlessness  it  produces,  and 
injurious  by  its  ultimate  profitlessness.  Who 

[350] 


COMPANIONS,  ACQUAINTANCES,  ETC. 

is  not  in  a  bad  humor  and  thoroughly  ex- 
hausted after  getting  up  from  reading  eight 
or  ten  periodicals?  And  who,  for  a  moment, 
would  fail  to  appreciate  the  difference  be- 
tween the  nervous,  unhealthy  fatigue  which 
follows  such  reading  and  the  feeling  of 
healthy  enjoyment  which  follows  earnest,  me- 
thodical, and  productive  work? 

But  on  condition  that  he  remains  master  of 
himself  and  does  not  fall  into  bad  habits,  and 
does  not  dissipate  his  mental  forces,  the  stu- 
dent can  find  in  his  fraternity  a  beneficial 
diversion,  a  relaxation,  the  chance  of  a  laugh 
with  good-humored  companions,  and  even  of 
a  stimulating  discussion.  There  is  also  more 
chance  here  of  forming  the  nucleus  of  a  circle 
of  chosen  friends.  In  the  same  way  that 
printing  has  emancipated  the  intelligence  by 
placing  at  the  disposal  of  unbiased  minds  the 
works  of  the  great  geniuses  of  every  age,  so 
a  student  fraternity  alienates  each  one  of  its 
members  from  the  baneful  "liaisons"  of  the 
restaurant  and  chance-meetings  with  tempta- 
tion, and  brings  him  in  contact  with  person- 
alities and  temperaments  of  widely  different 
character,  among  whom  he  can  find  friends 

[351] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

after  his  own  heart.  Without  these  fraterni- 
ties, such  friendships  would  be  a  matter  of 
chance.  The  wonderful  variety  of  tempera- 
ment and  character  presented  by  an  associa- 
tion of  young  men,  gives  an  opportunity  for 
the  formation  of  groups  congenial,  either 
through  sympathy  of  temperament  or  the 
reverse,  groups  which,  as  will  be  shown,  are 
essential  to  the  process  of  self-education. 

As  to  worldly  relations,  the  student  can  ex- 
tract from  them  nothing  but  a  certain  ease  of 
manner  and  veneer  of  culture — their  only  at- 
tributes. What  one  calls  ' l  the  world, ' '  in  the 
provinces  at  least,  is  by  no  means  a  society 
calculated  to  temper  either  the  intelligence 
or  the  character.  Morality  there  has  a  piti- 
fully low  standard  and  is  unspeakably  hypo- 
critical. Money  forgives  everything.  The 
creed  which  these  people  profess  is  a  servile 
adoration  of  fortune.  A  young  man  can  learn 
hardly  anything  there  that  is  not  the  off- 
spring of  a  perverted  conscience.  He  most 
certainly  does  not  learn  the  lesson  of  so- 
briety. Neither  does  he  acquire  a  respect  for 
superiority  of  intellect  or  of  character.  The 
people  of  the  world,  by  reason  of  their  lack 

[352] 


COMPANIONS,  ACQUAINTANCES,  ETC. 

of  true  culture,  are  rigorously  subservient  to 
popular  prejudice.  Folly  is  contagious;  if 
he  allows  himself  to  become  an  habitue  of 
such  society,  the  young  man  will  soon  see 
some  of  his  most  cherished  illusions  smashed 
to  atoms,  and  worse  still,  he  will  see  ridiculed 
his  righteous  protests  against  social  condi- 
tions with  their  injustice  and  insincerity. 

The  world  will  soon  make  him,  by  its  own 
example,  wholly  indifferent  to  everything  that 
is  out  of  the  running.  It  will  deprive  him  of 
all  his  nobler  ideals,  and  dry  up  the  springs 
of  his  enthusiasm.  What  an  enviable  fate  is 
his  when  he  has  developed  into  one  of  those 
men  ' '  always  looking,  always  listening,  never 
thinking, "  whom  Marivaux1  so  aptly  com- 
pares to  people  who  spend  their  lives  at  the 
window.  What  a  culmination  when  he  has 
got  to  the  point  of  hearing  without  being  in- 
terested in  anything,  obliged,  in  order  to  hide 
from  himself  the  horrible  emptiness  of  his 
existence,  to  submit  to  those  tyrannical  obli- 
gations which  make  the  life  of  the  man  of 
the  world  the  most  fatiguing  and  the  most 
foolish  and  the  most  hopelessly  monotonous 

i  "Vie  de  Marianne,"  Part  V. 
LS53j 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

that  can  possibly  be  imagined.  Any  discus- 
sion of  a  subject  which  will  lead  to  a  differ- 
ence of  opinion,  is  there  considered  bad  form, 
and  conversation  is  reduced  to  the  banal.  A 
young  man  of  intelligence  and  character  is 
bewildered  by  it.  Not  only  does  he  waste  his 
time,  but  he  also  loses  something  of  his  moral 
vigor.  Far  better  is  the  companionship  of 
his  friends  with  their  violent  arguments  and 
their  discussions,  adorned  like  those  of  Ho- 
mer's heroes,  with  impassioned  epithets. 


ni 


ENEMIES  TO  COMBAT:  SOPHISMS  OF  THE 
INDOLENT 


INDOLENCE,  like  every  other  vice,  seeks  an 
intellectual  justification.  The  majority  of 
men  do  not  even  attempt  to  resist  the  de- 
mands of  their  lower  nature,  and  it  can  easily 
be  realized  that  solemnly  pronounced  axioms 
and  proverbs  that  sound  infallible,  will  al- 
ways be  ready  for  use  as  a  justification,  and 
even  as  a  glorification  of  the  idler. 

Belief  in  the  immutability  of  character  re- 
ceived at  birth  has  already  been  touched  upon 
and  it  is  hoped,  definitely  dismissed.  This 
naive  theory  is  an  example  of  the  power  pos- 
sest  by  words  to  render  creditable  the  ideas 
which  they  enunciate.  The  subject  will  not 
be  reopened,  except  to  emphasize  how  effi- 
cient a  support  this  credulity  is  able  to  give 
to  our  cowardice  and  indolence.  Perhaps  the 
feeling  of  revolt  against  the  length  of  time  re- 
quired for  self-conquest,  supplies  this  creduli- 

[355] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

ty  with  its  greatest  stimulus,  causing  it,  as  a 
fair  return,  to  react  upon  our  indolence  with 
borrowed  energy.  This  theory  is,  moreover, 
only  one  of  the  weapons  which  laziness  finds 
in  the  perfect  arsenal  of  maxims  which  its 
supporters  have  supplied. 

The  devil,  according  to  an  old  fable,  is  ob- 
liged to  vary  his  temptations  in  order  to  al- 
lure sinners ;  but  for  the  indolent,  this  is  not 
necessary.  They  will  swallow  the  most  or- 
dinary bait,  and  the  grim  fisherman  is  sure 
of  his  catch  each  time.  In  fact,  no  vice  is 
more  ready  to  justify  itself  by  such  specious 
and  ingenious  means. 

There  is  one  very  general  complaint  among 
students.  Those  who  are  obliged,  in  order  to 
cover  their  expenses,  to  tutor  or  teach  in 
smaller  colleges  or  to  act  as  preceptors,  as 
well  as  those  who  only  have  to  give  a  few 
lessons,  all  declare  with  the  greatest  regret, 
that  their  daily  work  takes  all  their  time. 
But,  as  has  been  pointed  out,  there  is  al- 
ways plenty  of  time  for  those  who  know  how 
to  make  it.  It  is  impossible  that  in  the  twen- 
ty-four hours  of  the  day  one  can  not  find  the 
four  hours  that  are  necessary  and  that  would 

[356] 


SOPHISMS  OF  THE  INDOLENT 

suffice  for  thorough  intellectual  culture.  A 
very  few  hours  a  day,  in  fact,  are  enough,  if 
one  takes  care  to  put  by  for  study  those  mo- 
ments when  the  mind  is  in  full  possession  of 
its  vigor  and  resourcefulness.  If  to  these 
hours  of  close  application,  there  are  added 
for  taking  notes  and  copying  and  tabulating 
material  those  moments  which  are  usually 
frittered  away,  there  is  no  career  which  will 
not  allow  room  for  a  considerable  intellec- 
tual development.  Furthermore,  it  is  not 
long  before  even  those  professions  which  ap- 
pear to  have  the  least  routine,  such  as  law 
and  medicine  and  the  teaching  profession, 
cease  almost  completely,  as  has  already  been 
said,  to  contribute  anything  to  the  intelli- 
gence. At  the  end  of  a  few  years  the  pro- 
fessor knows  his  course.  The  lawyer  and  the 
physician  have,  except  in  rare  instances,  ex- 
hausted all  new  cases.  That  alone  explains 
why,  in  the  highest  positions,  one  finds  so 
many  men  who  are  remarkable  in  their  spe- 
cialty, but  who  have,  without  any  doubt,  let 
their  superior  faculties  rust  for  lack  of  use, 
and  who,  outside  of  their  regular  occupations, 
are  stupid  to  a  surprizing  degree.  For  ex- 

[357] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

ample,  the  fatigue  of  a  professor's  work  is 
not  wholly  intellectual  fatigue;  it  tends  to 
overstrain  the  muscles  which  are  used  in 
speaking,  and  as  these  muscles  belong  to  a 
very  limited  group,  they  get  tired  quickly. 
This  local  fatigue,  however,  has  but  a  very 
slight  effect  on  the  condition  of  one's  general 
strength,  and  it  by  no  means  excludes  the 
possibility  of  intellectual  work. 

Furthermore,  many  men  admit,  when  they 
are  pushed  to  it,  that  they  could  find  three 
or  four  hours  each  day  for  study;  but,  they 
say,  to  prepare  for  such  or  such  an  examina- 
tion, one  must  work  at  least  six  hours  a  day ; 
therefore  they  have  a  good  reason  for  doing 
nothing.  Apply  yourself  to  work,  even  if 
only  for  three  hours  each  day,  and  it  will 
soon  be  discovered  that  the  work  is  not  profit- 
less, and  that  the  sum  total  of  working  hours 
is  the  same,  whether  three  hours  a  day  for 
six  months,  or  six  hours  a  day  for  three 
months  has  been  the  time  employed.  The 
work  is  the  same,  but  results  are  different, 
for,  as  Leibnitz  has  said,  "the  more  we  try 
to  polish  our  minds  by  excessive  study,  the 
more  we  are  apt  to  dull  them." 

[358] 


SOPHISMS  OF  THE  INDOLENT 

Some  indolent  people  recognize  the  fact 
that  they  can  make  no  excuse  for  lack  of  time, 
but  there  is  no  use  in  starting  to  work,  they 
say,  when  one  is  not  in  the  proper  condition 
for  it.  A  dull,  sleepy  mind  can  accomplish 
nothing  of  value.  They  assert  that  in  the 
morning  work  has  to  be  given  up,  because  so 
much  time  is  required  to  get  the  mind  into 
"proper  trim/'  No  greater  mistake  can 
be  imagined.  If  one  has  slept  too  sound- 
ly, it  is  always  possible,  after  persever- 
ing for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  to  make 
some  effort  to  put  one's  self  into  the  right 
mood.  I  have  never  seen  young  people,  un- 
less they  had  had  a  very  poor  night,  who 
were  not  rewarded  by  the  ability  to  do  ex- 
cellent work  if  they  perseveringly  struggled 
against  their  morning  sleepiness.  The  intel- 
ligence soon  becomes  acute,  and  can  work 
with  ease.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is,  that 
this  pretended  torpor  of  the  intelligence  is 
nothing  else  but  torpor  of  the  will. 


[359J 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 


n 

Space  does  not  allow  of  a  detailed  review 
of  all  the  sophisms  of  the  indolent.  However, 
in  a  book  which  is  dedicated  to  young  people 
who  are  planning  to  do  some  of  the  world's 
work,  it  is  necessary  to  investigate  one  of 
the  most  serious  axioms  in  vogue;  an  axiom 
which  is  lightly  uttered  by  men  who  do  not 
in  the  least  suspect  the  havoc  that  their  words 
cause.  Many  workers,  who  are  obliged  to  live 
in  small  towns,  are  discouraged  before  they 
even  begin  their  work,  because  every  one 
says  that  it  is  impossible  to  do  any  real 
intellectual  work,  except  in  the  large  univer- 
sities. In  France,  one  often  hears  it  said 
that  no  work  is  possible,  except  in  Paris. 
There  is  nothing  more  fatal  nor  discouraging 
than  this  statement  solemnly  reiterated  by 
men  of  talent. 

It  contains  only  the  smallest  particle  of 
truth.  And  no  matter  who  the  authorities 
are,  who  are  quoted  in  its  support,  it  is  al- 
most wholly  false. 

[360] 


SOPHISMS  OF  THE  INDOLENT 

In  the  first  place,  the  facts  are  against  it. 
The  ideas  of  the  majority  of  great  thinkers 
have  been  developed  in  solitude.  Descartes, 
Spinoza,  Kant,  Kousseau,  and  in  later  days, 
Darwin,  Stuart  Mill,  Eenouvier,  Spencer 
and  Tolstoi,  who  have  revolutionized  modern 
thought  on  so  many  points,  owe  the  best  part 
of  their  success  to  solitude.  In  fact,  there  is 
nothing  in  the  nature  of  intellectual  work 
that  necessitates  living  in  Paris.  That  Paris 
alone  in  France  recognizes  talent  and  that  it 
alone  can  surround  the  successful  man  with 
the  glamour  of  consistent  publicity,  can  be 
granted  as  a  fact.  On  account  of  our  excess- 
ive centralization,  our  attention  is  turned  to- 
ward Paris,  and  it  is  only  because  it  is  the 
focus  toward  which  every  eye  is  turned,  that 
reputations  become  so  brilliant ;  but  this  priv- 
ilege is  not  confined  to  men  of  talent,  and  a 
notorious  criminal  receives  the  same  atten- 
tion as  a  writer  whose  works  will  endure  for 
ages.1 

Still,  moreover,  tho  Paris  may  be  the  only 
medium  by  which  well-known  names  can  be 

1  Here  what  is  said  of  Paris  applies  to  other  large  cities, 
us  New  York,  London,  Chicago,  Philadelphia,  Boston,  etc. 

[3611 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

brought  before  the  public,  it  is  by  no  means 
indispensable  during  those  long  periods  of 
early  work  and  attention,  which  alone  ought 
to  precede  the  first  success. 

Neither  has  it  been  proved  that  Paris  is 
indispensable  to  the  physician  and  to  the  psy- 
cho-physician, who  need  laboratories.  This 
statement  will  absolutely  cease  to  be  true 
when  the  universities  possessing  the  right  of 
freehold  will  be  able  to  develop  their  re- 
sources to  better  advantage.  These  univer- 
sities will  furnish  a  new  proof  of  the  law  laid 
down  by  Haeckel,  the  great  German  natural- 
ist, that  ' '  the  scientific  output  of  the  universi- 
ties is  in  inverse  ratio  to  their  size."  This 
is  because,  in  the  sciences,  as  in  other  direc- 
tions, a  little  enthusiasm  and  initiative,  coup- 
led with  a  passion  for  research,  will  take  the 
place  of  material  support,  and  accomplish 
marvels,  even  when  the  resources  at  their 
command  are  inadequate.  On  the  other  hand, 
even  in  laboratories  thoroughly  equipped,  an 
inert  and  unambitious  mind  will  accomplish 
nothing.  The  important  thing,  therefore,  is 
to  possess  unbounded  enthusiasm.  A  labora- 
tory is  only  useful  as  a  verifier  of  precon- 

[362] 


SOPHISMS  OF  THE  INDOLENT 

ceived  ideas.  The  idea  lies  in  the  discovery 
itself,  not  in  the  apparatus  that  facilitated  it. 

Outside  of  the  sciences,  there  is  the  study 
of  history,  which  requires  documents  to  be 
consulted,  wherever  they  are  to  be  found ;  but 
philosophy,  literature,  the  philosophy  of  his- 
tory, and,  among  the  sciences,  mathematics, 
botany,  zoology,  vegetable  chemistry,  and 
geology,  is  life  in  a  big  city  essential  to 
these?  If  talent  consists  less  in  the  absorp- 
tion of  numerous  materials  than  in  the  as- 
similation of  chosen  materials,  and  if  the 
quality  of  mind  is  distinguished  chiefly  by 
its  power  to  organize  facts  that  have  been 
observed  or  gathered  together,  and  to  put 
life  into  them,  who  can  not  see  that  our  re- 
searches in  libraries  ought  to  be  followed  by 
long  periods  of  meditation  and  calm? 

These  great  libraries  even  are  not  without 
their  serious  drawbacks.  When  it  is  so  easy 
to  see  what  our  predecessors  have  thought 
on  questions  which  interest  us,  we  are  finally 
apt  to  lose  the  habit  of  thinking  for  ourselves, 
and  as  no  power  weakens  more  quickly 
through  lack  of  exercise,  than  the  ability  to 
make  personal  efforts,  one  is  very  apt  soon 

[363] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

to  reach  the  point  of  always  and  everywhere 
substituting  attempts  of  memory  for  active 
personal  research. 

A  man's  capacity  for  original  thought  is 
nearly  always  inversely  proportionate  to  the 
amount  of  stimulus  furnished  by  his  environ- 
ment. It  is  for  this  reason  that  students  en- 
dowed with  a  very  good  memory  are  nearly 
always  inferior  to  those  of  their  friends  who 
are  less  fortunate  in  this  respect.  The  lat- 
ter, mistrusting  their  memory,  have  as  little 
recourse  to  it  as  possible.  They  make  a  very 
careful  choice  of  those  details  which  they  in- 
tend to  introduce  by  repetition  into  their 
memory;  they  only  choose  what  is  essential 
to  their  subject,  leaving  everything  to  ob- 
livion that  is  purely  incidental.  And  the 
memory,  the  essential  thing  itself,  is  thereby 
more  strongly  organized.  An  organized 
memory  is  like  a  picked  army  carefully  "  en- 
sconced. "  Thus,  a  man  who  can  not  have 
access  to  innumerable  libraries  only  sur- 
rounds himself  with  books  of  the  highest  or- 
der, which  he  reads  with  care  and  which  he 
meditates  over  and  criticizes,  supplying  what 
is  lacking  by  personal  observation  and  by 

[364] 


SOPHISMS  OF  THE  INDOLENT 

thoughtful  discrimination,  which  is  the  best 
kind  of  discipline  for  the  mind. 

Calm  meditation  is  indispensable  for  this 
work  of  organization,  but  it  is  difficult  to  in- 
dulge in  it  in  Paris.  Not  only  is  it  impossi- 
ble to  find  that  absolute  silence  which  the 
country  brings,  where  one  can  almost  hear 
one's  self  think,  but  the  hygienic  surround- 
ings there  are  deplorable.  The  sea  of  chim- 
neys and  rain-pipes  at  one's  window,  the 
over-stimulating  artificial  environment,  the 
almost  necessary  condition  of  having  to  re- 
main seated  during  one's  pleasures  as  well 
as  one's  studies,  all  contribute  to  ruin  the 
health. 

Still  further,  one  is  sure  finally  to  acquire 
in  Paris  something  of  that  restless  excite- 
ment which  is  so  characteristic  of  the  inhabi- 
tants of  great  cities.  The  impressions  that 
enter  the  mind  there  are  too  numerous,  they 
fairly  bubble  around  one,  until,  after  a  while, 
by  reason  of  this  perpetual  commotion,  one 
loses  much  of  one's  personality.  The  atten- 
tion is  constantly  fastened  on  little  things, 
and  because  it  is  very  difficult  to  hold  one's 
self  back  in  this  precipitous  course,  one  is 

[365] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

naturally  obliged  to  bow  to  the  dictates  of 
fashion.  Even  work  itself  has  something 
feverish  and  unhealthy  about  it  in  Paris.  To 
be  convinced  how  much  the  mental  condition 
of  the  worker  is  affected  by  these  various 
causes  of  irritability  in  one's  surroundings, 
one  has  only  to  read  the  very  sincere  and  in- 
structive treatise  of  M.  Huret  on  the  evo- 
lution of  literature.1  This  draws  attention 
to  the  effects  of  crowding  and  congestion  in 
an  enervating  environment,  and  makes  one's 
pity  flow  for  the  sufferings  of  the  many 
young  writers,  who  are  not  only  devoured  by 
envy  and  restlessness,  but  who  are  badly 
lodged  in  uncomfortable  dwellings.  As  for 
myself,  I  declare  I  can  see  how  living  in 
cramped  quarters  on  the  fourth  story  in  a 
street  filled  with  noise,  and  far  from  the 
fields  and  woods,  might  produce  irritation, 
but  I  can  not  see  how  such  a  state  of  things 
can  give  a  young  man  any  added  intellectual 
value. 

And  when  we  come  to  the  point  of  speaking 
of  the  society  which  is  found  in  large  cities, 

i  Jules    Huret:    "Enquete    sur    revolution    litteraire," 
Paris,  1891. 

[366] 


SOPHISMS  OF  THE  INDOLENT 

I  can  in  the  heart  of  a  little  village  have  in- 
tercourse with  the  greatest  spirits  of  the  age. 
I  only  have  to  buy  their  works.  These  great 
men,  having  confided  the  best  of  their  genius 
to  their  works,  and,  as  a  rule,  not  liking  to 
speak  of  the  works  which  they  have  produced 
with  so  much  toil,  look  upon  society  as  a  re- 
laxation. The  intellectual  profit  which  young 
people  can  draw  from  their  society  is  insig- 
nificant compared  to  the  profit  they  can  de- 
rive from  the  study  of  their  works.  The  im- 
mense advantage  that  such  relations  can  have 
upon  a  young  man  of  talent  and  energy  is 
based  on  that  feeling  of  emulation  which  is 
produced  by  a  contact  with  success ;  but  such 
opportunities  of  intellectual  intercourse  nat- 
urally fall  to  the  lot  of  but  very  few. 

The  one  great  advantage  of  living  in  Paris 
— and  it  can  not  be  overestimated — is  the  op- 
portunity for  esthetic  culture  which  can  be 
found  there.  Music,  painting,  sculpture,  elo- 
quence; there  is  in  this  marvelous  city  an 
artistic  initiative  which  is  lacking  in  the  ma- 
jority of  provincial  towns.  But  once  this  in- 
itiation has  been  received,  the  provinces  have 
many  resources  for  any  intellectual  worker 

[367] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

who  wishes  to  avail  himself  of  them.  Be- 
sides, to  be  provincial  does  not  necessarily 
mean  to  live  in  some  little  village  or  remote 
parish.  One  can  be  provincial  in  Paris,  for 
the  only  meaning  implied  in  the  term  is  to 
signify  the  absence  of  all  outside  interests. 
The  provincial  is  the  man  whose  mind  is 
filled  with  unimportant  gossip ;  who  sees  noth- 
ing in  life  beyond  eating,  drinking  and  sleep- 
ing and  making  money ;  he  is  a  stupid  fellow, 
who  has  no  other  pastime  but  smoking,  play- 
ing cards  and  making  coarse  jokes  with  peo- 
ple of  the  same  intellectual  level  as  his  own. 
But  if  a  young  man,  tho  he  lives  in  the  prov- 
inces, even  in  a  little  village,  has  a  love  of 
nature,  and  if  he  lives  in  constant  communica- 
tion with  the  greatest  thinkers,  he  certainly 
does  not  deserve  the  epithet,  provincial,  in 
the  contumacious  sense  generally  associated 
with  it. 

And  what  compensations  there  are  to  be 
found  on  being  at  some  distance  from  the 
great  centers!  Some  authors  have  compared 
little  villages  to  convents.  There  may  be 
found  the  silence  and  the  calm  of  cloisters ; 
there  one  can  follow  a  train  of  thought  with- 

[  .368  ] 


SOPHISMS  OF  THE  INDOLENT 

out  being  incessantly  distracted  by  one's  en- 
vironment. No  more  interruptions,  no  more 
scattered  efforts!  One  can  live  in  one's  self 
and  enjoy  one's  own  thoughts*  In  such  a 
calm  and  tranquil  environment,  our  deepest 
impressions  gain  strength.  Ideas  are  awa- 
kened, little  by  little,  and  group  themselves 
according  to  their  affinities,  and  memories 
come  back  again.  Such  slow,  calm,  and  pow- 
erful growth  of  the  intelligence  is  vastly  su- 
perior to  the  hurried,  uneven,  feverish  de- 
velopment which  one  is  apt  to  undergo  in 
large  cities. 

The  nights  in  the  country  are  nights  of 
rest,  which  assure  a  morrow  full  of  energy, 
and  the  hours  of  recreation  which  are  passed 
in  the  woods  or  open  air  are  hours  of  invigo- 
ration.  No  more  irritability,  no  more  fever. 
It  becomes  easy  to  pursue  an  idea  steadily 
and  tranquilly  along  every  one  of  its  possible 
ramifications.  The  work  of  committing 
things  to  memory  can  be  accomplished,  and 
infinitely  better  accomplished,  without  being 
bent  over  a  work-table.  But  in  the  forest 
or  fields,  the  blood,  quickened  by  walking, 
and,  as  it  were,  suffused  in  oxygen,  enables 

[369] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

the  mind  to  retain  forever  the  impressions 
which  are  entrusted  to  it  in  these  happy  mo- 
ments. The  work  of  composition  and  medi- 
tation becomes  easy;  ideas  run  through  the 
mind  and  are  readily  classified ;  one  comes  in 
and  sits  down  to  work  with  a  distinct  plan  of 
work,  an  ample  storehouse  of  impressions 
and  ideas,  and  furthermore,  with  all  the  hy- 
gienic advantages  of  exercise  in  the  open  air. 
But  it  is  useless  to  emphasize  this  further, 
because  talent  is  not  produced  by  external 
conditions.  Development  does  not  take  place 
from  without  to  within,  but  rather  from  with- 
in to  without.  The  circumstances  of  the 
outer  world  are  never  more  than  accessories ; 
they  help  or  they  hinder,  perhaps  less,  than 
one  is  in  the  habit  of  believing.  One  must 
therefore  not  classify  students  into  students 
who  live  in  Paris,  and  students  who  do  not 
live  there.  There  are  only  two  great  classes 
to  be  established  among  them:  those  who 
really  work,  the  energetic,  and  those  who  do 
not  know  how  to  work,  or  the  weak  willed; 
the  first,  in  whatsoever  environment  they  live, 
accomplish  marvels  with  very  little  means, 
the  first  expression  of  their  energy  being,  as 

[370] 


SOPHISMS  OF  THE  INDOLENT 

a  rule,  to  create  the  means;  the  second,  tho 
surrounded  by  libraries  and  laboratories,  dv» 
nothing  and  never  will  do  anything. 


Ill 

The  end  of  the  fourth  book  has  now  almost 
been  reached.  It  was  necessary,  first,  to  take 
up  the  question  of  vague  sentimentality,  a 
most  dangerous  state  to  the  will.  Its  causes 
and  its  remedies  were  examined,  for  the 
foolish  illusions  which  cause  such  prodigious 
errors  in  the  valuation  which  the  student 
puts  upon  his  pleasures  had  to  be  destroyed. 
We  were  forced  to  stop  to  take  up  the  un- 
pleasant subject  of  sensuality  under  the  va- 
rious forms  in  which  it  appears,  and  to  ex- 
amine the  best  means  of  struggling  against  it. 
And,  finally,  we  have  been  obliged,  while  clear- 
ing the  way,  to  destroy  the  prejudices  and 
sophisms  which  laziness  has  suggested,  in  the 
form  of  axioms,  to  those  who  will  not  work 
under  any  consideration.  It  now  remains 
for  us  to  turn  about  and  do  the  opposite 
thing;  that  is  to  say,  to  begin  constructive 

[371] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

operations.  After  the  analytical  meditations, 
of  which  we  have  just  given  an  example,  and 
which  each  student  can  work  out  more  com- 
pletely from  his  own  experiences  and  his 
personal  reflections,  must  come  the  creative 
meditations,  by  which  the  will  can  be  stimu- 
lated and  the  energy  strengthened. 


[372] 


IV 

JOYS  OF  WORK 


THERE  is  no  sadder  reflection  than  that 
produced  by  the  shortness  of  this  life.  We 
feel  our  hours  and  days  and  years  slipping 
uncontrollably  away.  We  are  conscious  that 
this  flight  of  time  is  bearing  us  rapidly  to- 
ward death.  Those  who  have  frittered  their 
time  in  frivolous  occupations,  who  have  left 
no  works  behind  them  to  mark  the  way  along 
which  they  have  passed,  experience  a  singu- 
lar sensation  when  they  look  behind  them. 
The  years  seem  to  them  barren  and  empty, 
for  such  they  are  if  they  bear  no  memory  of 
efforts  which  have  ripened  into  achievement. 
The  vanished  life  seems  reduced  to  nothing- 
ness, and  the  feeling  irresistibly  arises  that 
the  past  is  nothing  but  a  vain  dream. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  our  progress  be- 
gins to  lose  the  interest  of  novelty,  when  the 
difficulties  of  existence  have  taught  us  the 
limit  of  our  powers,  and  when  not  only  the 

[373] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

present  but  the  future  appears  monotonous, 
then  life  seems  to  quicken  its  path,  and,  to  the 
impression  that  the  past  was  nothing  but  a 
dream,  there  is  added  another  still  more  dis- 
tressing, that  the  present  itself  is  only  an 
illusion.  To  those  who  do  not  know  how  to 
overcome  the  degenerating  tendencies  of  the 
organic  life,  such  as  laziness  or  subjection  to 
social  or  business  life,  by  hours  of  happy 
meditation,  this  illusion  gives  them  a  hope- 
lessly helpless  feeling.  They  are  carried 
along  like  prisoners  at  a  rapid  gait  and 
against  their  will. 

The  wise  man  is  borne  along  just  as  rap- 
idly as  they,  but  he  has  realized  the  futility 
of  resistance;  he  has  freed  himself  by  ac- 
cepting what  he  could  not  avoid,  and  he  tries 
at  least  to  give  his  journey  the  appearance  of 
being  a  long  one.  He  succeeds  in  doing  this 
by  not  letting  the  past  wholly  disappear.  He 
knows  that  for  those  to  whom  the  journey 
leaves  no  memories  behind  it,  this  feeling  that 
life  is  only  a  long  drawn  out  illusion  without 
any  reality,  becomes  intolerable.  He  knows 
that  this  feeling  comes  inevitably  to  idle  peo- 
ple, to  "men  of  the  world,"  to  men  of  medi- 

[374] 


JOYS  OF  WORK 


ocre  caliber,  whose  lives  are  warped  by  mean 
prejudices  and  sterile  efforts,  to  all  those 
who,  in  a  word,  have  done  no  work  that  has 
amounted  to  anything. 

One  can  only  avoid  this  feeling  of  the  lack 
of  reality  by  subordinating  one's  whole  ex- 
istence to  some  great  ideal  which  can  be 
slowly  realized  by  continued  efforts.  Then 
one  will  experience  the  opposite  sentiment, 
that  of  the  vivid  reality  of  life.  Just  as  the 
farmer's  work  leaves  traces  of  every  effort 
which  he  makes,  so  is  it  with  the  writer  who 
is  -convinced  of  the  value  that  his  work  will 
have  in  society  when  he  has  attained  his  high- 
est development.  For  him,  each  day  shows 
some  tangible  results  of  his  labor.  His  life 
finally  becomes  identified  in  part  with  his 
work  and  lends  him  something  of  its  concrete 
reality.  There  are  other  ways  in  which  the 
life  of  the  worker  is  much  more  profoundly 
real  than  that  of  the  lazy  man.  Confirmed 
idleness  takes  away  from  us  the  feeling  of 
our  existence  and  substitutes  for  it  a  vain 
despicable  dream.  Only  regular,  happy,  pro- 
ductive work  can  give  life  its  full  savor.  That 
upwelling  sense  of  energy  which  we  call  the 

[375] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

"joy  of  living, "  can  only  arise  and  be  made 
a  part  of  daily  life  by  work.  Work  increases 
tenfold  the  enjoyment  of  life,  but  the  lazy 
ignore  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  the  life  of  the  in- 
tellectual worker  were  not  naturally  filled 
with  happy  hours,  if  it  were  not  a  source 
from  which  the  joys  of  an  active  life  rush 
forth  abundantly,  it  would  still  present  a 
sharp  contrast  to  a  life  of  indolence.  For,  by 
the  fact  that  the  worker  alone  escapes  from 
the  worries,  paltry  cares,  and  miserable  bore- 
doms that  are  so  intolerable  to  the  idle,  his 
existence  is  more  enviable  than  all  others. 
Darwin  wrote  in  his  journal:  "During  my 
stay  at  Maer,  my  health  has  been  poor,  and 
I  have  been  scandalously  lazy;  the  impres- 
sion that  this  has  made  upon  me  is  that  noth- 
ing is  so  unbearable  as  laziness. 991  "When 
a  soldier,  or  a  laborer  complains  of  the  work 
which  they  have  to  do,  let  them  be  put  to  do- 
ing no  thing, "  says  Pascal.  In  fact,  the  lazy 
man  is  a  "heautontimorousmenos,"  or  a  self- 
executioner,  and  the  idleness  of  his  mind  and 
body  soon  begets  a  dull,  miserable  sense  of 

i" Journal  of  Darwin,"  August,  1839., 
[376] 


JOYS  OF  WORK 


ennui.  Many  rich  people,  whose  fortune  has 
relieved  them  of  the  salutary  necessity  of 
work,  and  who  do  not  possess  the  courage  to 
undertake  some  permanent  work  for  them- 
selves, soon  learn  the  meaning  of  this  dull, 
miserable  ennui.  They  are  plunged  in  mel- 
ancholy, and  are  cynical  about  everything,  or 
else  they  try  to  find  diversion  in  sensual 
pleasures,  which  soon,  by  their  satiety,  re- 
double their  miseries. 

But  absolute  idleness  is  rare,  and,  as  the 
proverb  says,  "  Satan  finds  some  mischief 
still  for  idle  hands  to  do."  When  the  mind 
has  no  more  worthy  occupation,  it  is  soon 
filled  with  trifling  preoccupations.  He  who 
does  nothing  at  all  has  plenty  of  time  to  chew 
the  cud  of  petty  annoyances.  Such  rumina- 
tion, however,  far  from  nourishing  the  mind, 
ruins  it.  The  force  of  our  feelings  having 
no  legitimate  channel  through  which  to  flow 
and  cultivate  the  nobler  side  of  our  nature, 
sinks  down  into  the  depths  of  our  animality 
and  stagnates  there.  The  imperceptible 
wounds  to  our  self-esteem  grow  sore,  the  in- 
evitable annoyances  of  life  poison  our  days 
and  disturb  our  sleep.  To  live  like  a  lord  is 

[377] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

not  so  enviable  as  it  seems,  when  we  look 
closely  at  the  life.  Pleasures  themselves  be- 
come a  burden,  they  lose  all  spice  and  flavor, 
because,  for  man,  true  pleasure  is  insep- 
arable from  activity.  Laziness  reacts  even 
on  the  body,  and  tends  to  exhaust  the  health 
by  the  languor  and  weakness  which  attend 
the  functions  of  nutrition  and  intercourse. 
As  for  the  intelligence,  it  is  characterized  in 
this  condition  by  vague  dreaming  and  morbid 
and  profitless  preoccupation.  The  mind 
"  gnaws  itself, "  to  use  a  popular  French  ex- 
pression. As  for  the  will,  it  is  scarcely  neces- 
sary to  recall  with  what  distressing  rapidity 
it  is  atrophied  in  the  lazy  man;  every  effort 
becomes  difficult  for  him,  so  that  he  manages 
to  suffer  when  an  active  man  would  not  even 
suspect  the  possibility  of  discomfort.  How 
different  it  is  with  the  worker !  Work  being 
the  expression  of  continuous  and  lasting  ef- 
fort, forms,  in  itself,  an  excellent  education 
for  the  will.  This  is  more  true  of  intellec- 
tual work  than  of  all  other  kinds,  for,  with 
the  majority  of  manual  work,  the  thoughts 
are  free  to  wander  like  vagabonds  wherever 
they  will.  On  the  other  hand,  mental  work 

[378] 


JOYS  OF  WORK 


presupposes  both  the  obedience  of  the  body, 
which  is,  as  it  were,  held  taut  by  the  atten- 
tion, and  the  vigorous  discipline  of  the 
thoughts  and  feelings.  If  this  effort,  by 
which  thought  is  controlled,  is  not  followed 
by  fatigue  or  by  self -abandon,  if  one  takes 
care  not  to  abuse  one's  forces,  if  one  has 
known  how  to  husband  them  in  such  a  way 
as  to  preserve,  through  the  long  hours  which 
can  not  be  given  to  work,  a  certain  amount 
of  vigor,  even  tho  it  be  somewhat  diminished, 
one  will  finally  acquire  a  state  of  mental 
alertness,  and  the  habit  of  keeping  a  watch 
over  one 's  self-control.  As  the  secret  of  hap- 
piness lies  in  knowing  how  to  direct  one's 
own  thoughts  and  feelings,  one  will  find  by 
this  indirect  method  of  working  the  philoso- 
pher's touchstone  of  happiness. 

It  is,  however,  to  be  lamented  that  the  or- 
dinary run  of  people,  who  are  the  dictators 
of  language,  have  associated  with  the  word 
work  so  many  ideas  of  toil  and  weariness  and 
affliction,  when  psychology  furnishes  us  with 
superabundant  evidence  that  work  causes 
pleasure,  provided  the  outlay  does  not  ex- 
ceed what  the  normal  regular  functions  of 

[379] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

nutrition  can  supply.1  Montaigne  quaintly 
remarked  concerning  virtue,  that  "her  most 
distinctive  charm  lieth  in  her  perpetual  joy- 
ousness  .  .  .  her  role  is  i  *  .  to  be 
always  serene  .  .  .  virtue  is  not  en- 
throned on  the  sharp  peak  of  a  rugged  inac- 
cessible mountain:  those  who  have  ap- 
proached her  say,  on  the  contrary,  that  she 
dwelleth  in  a  beautiful,  flowery,  fertile  plain. 
Thus  may  she  be  reached  by  those  who 
know  the  way,  by  shady  paths  bordered  with 
green  grass  and  sweet  flowers  .  .  .  they 
who  have  never  visited  this  goddess  in  her 
haunts,  who  have  never  seen  her,  beautiful, 
triumphant,  radiant,  lovable,  and  full  of  cour- 
age, the  profest  and  irreconcilable  enemy  of 
bitterness  and  displeasure,  of  fear  and  con- 
straint .  .  .  have  failed  because  they 
have  made  this  a  false  image  of  her,  and  rep- 
resented her  as  sad  and  quarrelsome  and 
spiteful,  threatening  and  petty,  set  on  a  rock 
in  a  lonely  place,  overgrown  with  briers  as 

1  For  the  development  of  this  thought  and  the  strong 
proofs  in  its  support,  see  the  article  by  the  present  writer, 
"Plaises  et  Douleur,"  in  the  "Bevue  philosophique, "  May 
18,  1890. 

[380] 


JOYS  OF  WORK 


a  f antom  to  frighten  men. ' ' 1  What  Mon- 
taigne said  of  virtue,  we  might  also  say  of 
intellectual  work,  for  our  young  people  are 
never  taught  its  true  nature,  which,  also  like 
virtue,  is  "beautiful  and  triumphant,  thepro- 
fest  and  irreconcilable  enemy  of  grief  and 
pain,  flagrant-eyed  and  delicate  of  taste. " 

For  the  happiness  that  work  brings  is  more 
than  a  negative  happiness.  It  not  only  pre- 
vents life  from  losing  its  savor  and  becom- 
ing transformed  into  an  unreal  dream;  it 
not  only  prevents  the  mind  from  being  in- 
vaded by  annoyances  and  petty  worries,  but 
it  is  in  itself  and  by  its  results  a  keen  source 
of  happiness. 

In  itself,  it  raises  us  far  above  the  vulgar 
mass.  It  introduces  us  on  the  footing  of 
perfect  equality  and  of  charming  intimacy 
into  the  society  of  the  greatest  and  noblest 
spirits  of  all  time.  And  by  this  means,  it 
constantly  renews  our  sources  of  interest. 
While  the  idle  man  has  need  of  a  society 
which  is  often  beneath  him  in  order  to  pass 
the  time  away,  the  worker  is  sufficient  unto 
himself.  The  impossibility  of  self-sufficiency 

i  Montaigne,  " Essays/'  I.  XXV. 
[381] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

forces  the  lazy  man  to  depend  upon  others, 
and  obliges  him  to  undergo  a  thousand  petty 
degradations  which  the  worker  never  expe- 
riences. So  that  when  one  says  "work  is 
liberty, "  one  is  not  merely  using  a  meta- 
phor. Epictetus  divides  things  into  two 
classes,  things  which  concern  us,  and  things 
which  do  not.  He  remarks  that  "in  pursu- 
ing the  things  that  do  not  concern  us,  most 
of  our  disappointments  and  our  sufferings 
arise."  Thus,  as  the  happiness  of  the  idle 
depends  wholly  upon  others,  the  man  who  is 
accustomed  to  work  finds  the  greatest  hap- 
piness in  himself. 

Furthermore,  the  succession  of  the  days, 
which,  for  the  idle  only  marks  the  progress 
of  old  age  and  an  empty  life,  slowly  but  sure- 
ly contribute  to  the  storehouse  of  knowledge 
laid  up  by  the  hard-working  student,  and 
just  as  each  evening  the  growth  of  certain 
plants  can  be  computed,  in  the  same  way, 
after  each  week  of  effort,  the  young  man 
can  notice  a  certain  growth  of  vigor  in  his 
faculties.  These  slow  progressions,  indefi- 
nitely repeated,  will  lead  him  to  a  very  high 
degree  of  intellectual  power.  After  moral 

[382] 


JOYS  OF  WORK 


grandeur,  nothing  shines  so  brightly  as  a 
cultivated  mind.  The  idle  man  grows  more 
and  more  stupid  as  he  gets  older ;  the  worker, 
on  the  other  hand,  sees  his  authority  increas- 
ing year  by  year  over  those  who  surround 
him. 

Then  what  happens?  While  old  age  grad- 
ually extinguishes  the  pleasures  of  the  senses 
and  brings  the  rudest  disappointment  to 
purely  selfish  satisfactions,  it  multiplies  the 
joys  of  life  for  those  who  have  broadened 
their  human  culture.  Not  one  of  the  sources 
of  true  happiness  can  fail  with  the  progress 
of  the  years.  Neither  the  interest  that  one 
takes  in  science  or  in  literature  or  in  nature 
or  humanity  will  diminish.  Quite  the  con- 
trary. Nothing  is  more  true  than  the  words 
of  Quinet:  "When  old  age  had  come,  I  found 
it  much  less  bitter  than  you  made  it  out  to 
be.  The  years  which  you  said  would  be  full 
of  misery  and  distress  have  been  even  sweet- 
er to  me  than  those  of  youth.  ...  I  ex- 
pected it  to  be  like  an  icy  peak,  narrow  and 
deserted,  and  wrapt  in  fog ;  but  I  saw,  on  the 
contrary,  opened  up  before  me,  a  vast  horizon 
which  my  eyes  had  hitherto  never  seen.  I 

[383] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

realized  myself  more  completely,  and  also, 
every  act  that  I  did.  .  .  ."  Then  he 
added:  "You  say  that  the  feelings  become 
dulled  with  living.  But  I  feel  very  sure  that 
if  I  should  live  a  century,  I  would  never  grow 
accustomed  to  what  I  find  revolting  to-day. ' n 
The  life  of  the  intellectual  worker  is  thus 
the  most  truly  happy  life.  It  deprives  one 
of  no  real  pleasure,  it  alone  gives  us  fully 
the  feeling  of  the  reality  of  our  existence;  it 
dispels  that  impression  which  is  so  inevitable 
and  unpleasant  for  the  idle  man,  that  life  is 
a  dream  without  reality.  It  delivers  us  from 
the  miserable  bondage  of  thought,  which 
makes  the  man  who  has  no  occupation  the 
mere  plaything  of  external  circumstances ;  it 
does  not  permit  the  mind  to  worry  over  in- 
significant preoccupations  or  low  thoughts. 
To  these  indirect  benefits,  however,  a  life  of 
labor  adds  still  others;  it  tempers  the  will, 
the  source  of  all  lasting  happiness,  it  makes 
us  inhabitants  of  that  city  of  light  in  which 
dwell  the  elite  of  humanity;  and  finally,  it 
prepares  us  for  a  happy  old  age,  surrounded 
by  deference  and  respect.  In  an  indirect  way, 

i"L 'Esprit  Nouveau,"  Book  VII.  Chap.  II. 
[384] 


JOYS  OF  WORK 


it  lavishes  prodigally  upon  us,  in  addition  to 
the  higher  joys  of  the  mind  and  soul,  the  sat- 
isfaction afforded  by  a  feeling  of  honest 
pride,  which  may  be  summed  up  in  the  sense 
of  authority  that  one  has  acquired,  and  in 
the  realization  of  superiority.  Those  very 
satisfactions  for  which  commonplace  minds 
are  always  looking,  often  in  vain — the  dis- 
play of  luxury  or  fortune  or  dignity  or  politi- 
cal power — the  worker  finds  without  a  search. 
They  are  like  an  extra  portion  thrown  into 
the  bargain,  as  it  were,  to  assure  good  meas- 
ure, and  added  to  those  rich  gifts,  which  are 
the  offspring  of  those  just  laws  on  which 
society  is  based. 


II 

It  is  evident  that  the  preceding  meditations, 
both  those  of  a  "  destructive "  character  as 
well  as  those  intended  to  strengthen  the  de- 
sire for  good,  are  the  barest  outlines,  mere 
sketches,  which  are  very  incomplete,  and 
which  each  one  must  fill  in  to  suit  his  own 
personal  experiences  and  reflections  and 

[385] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

reading.  The  essential  point  in  this  kind  of 
meditation  is  not  to  pass  lightly  over  an  idea 
or  a  sentiment  which  would  serve  to  strength- 
en one's  distaste  for  an  idle  life,  or  to  give 
enthusiasm  to  one's  will.  It  is  necessary,  as 
we  have  said  above,  that  each  consideration 
should  be  slowly  "  distilled, "  and  penetrate 
the  very  depths  of  the  soul  in  order  to  pro- 
duce the  strong  emotions  of  repulsion  or  af- 
fection. 

Until  now  we  have  studied  chiefly  our  own 
inner  resources.  We  must,  however,  cast  a 
glance  upon  the  outer  world,  on  our  envi- 
ronment in  the  most  general  sense  of  the 
word,  and  look  very  closely  to  see  what  help 
a  young  man  who  is  anxious  to  complete  the 
education  of  his  will  may  find  there. 


[386] 


BOOK  V 

THE  RESOURCES  OF  OUR  ENVIRONMENT 


[387] 


PUBLIC  OPINION,  PROFESSORS,  ETC. 


WE  have  hitherto  taken  up  the  question  of 
the  "education  of  the  will"  as  if  we  had  none 
but  purely  personal  resources ;  as  if  we  were 
isolated  in  the  world  without  being  able  to 
hope  for  any  aid  whatever  from  society.  If 
we  were  abandoned  by  fate  to  our  own 
energy,  it  would  not  be  long  before  we  would 
be  throwing  away  our  arms  and  sitting  down 
discouraged  at  the  length  of  time  required 
for  the  conquest  of  ourselves;  but  altho  the 
impulse  that  moves  us  to  try  to  perfect  our 
will  must  necessarily  spring  from  our  inner 
moral  nature,  this  impulse  needs  the  support 
of  very  powerful  social  influence  to  sustain 
its  enthusiasm. 

We  are,  in  reality,  never  isolated  and 
thrown  upon  our  own  resources ;  our  family, 
our  immediate  surroundings,  the  people  of 
our  village  or  our  little  town,  sustain  our 

[389] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

efforts  by  their  admiration,  and  by  their  re- 
doubles affection  and  unprejudiced  sympa- 
thy, and  when  we  achieve  any  brilliant  suc- 
cess the  applause  of  the  public  at  large 
upholds  us. 

Nothing  great  in  the  world  is  effected  with- 
out prolonged  effort,  and  no  effort  can  be 
sustained  during  months  and  years  without 
the  energy  being  galvanized  by  public  opin- 
ion. Even  those  who  openly  reject  popular 
opinions,  find  in  the  warm  sympathy  of  an 
enthusiastic  minority  the  courage  to  brave 
the  majority.  But  to  hold  out  alone  for  long 
years  against  a  unanimous  opinion  demands 
a  superhuman  tenacity  of  which  I  know  no 
example. 

Bain,  conversing  with  Mill  on  the  subject 
of  Energy,  declared  that  its  two  essential 
sources  were,  either  a  natural  superabundant 
vigor,  or  else  a  stimulant  which  produces  ex- 
citement. Mill  replied:  " There!  stimulation 
is  what  people  never  sufficiently  allow  for."1 
In  fact,  public  opinion  is  an  energetic  stimu- 
lant, and  as  nothing  or  nobody  can^  contradict 

i"John  Stuart  Mill,  A  Criticism,"  by  A.  Bain,  London, 
1882,  page  149. 

[390] 


PUBLIC  OPINION,  PROFESSORS,  ETC. 

it,  its  power  may  become  phenomenal.  It  is 
impossible  to  exaggerate  its  effects.  In 
Athens,  this  unanimous  admiration  of  phys- 
ical force  and  literary  genius  brought  forth, 
in  spite  of  the  smallness  of  the  country,  the 
noblest  array  of  athletes,  poets  and  philoso- 
phers that  any  country  has  ever  seen.  In 
Lacedemonia,  the  desire  for  public  praise 
produced  a  race  of  extraordinary  energy. 
The  story  is  well  known,  and  probably  may 
be  true,  of  the  Spartan  boy  who  was  sur- 
prized while  stealing  a  fox,  and  who,  having 
hidden  it  under  his  tunic,  let  himself  be 
cruelly  torn  and  bitten  rather  than  betray 
his  secret.  One  can  not  say  that  they  were 
an  exceptional  people,  when  we  have  seen  the 
redskins,  on  one  of  the  lowest  steps  of  the 
human  ladder,  endure  the  most  cruel  tor- 
ments to  show  their  contempt  for  their  ene- 
mies, and  have  also  seen  that  many  villains, 
for  fear  of  appearing  cowardly,  can  show  a 
stoical  courage  even  on  the  scaffold.  In  our 
modern  societies  the  desire,  not  to  gain  in- 
dependence and  security,  but  to  indulge  in 
luxury  and  style,  the  desire  to  eclipse  others 
and  to  parade  one's  foolish  vanity,  will  make 

[391] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

a  whole  race  of  merchants  and  bankers  and 
leaders  of  commerce  willing  to  engage  in  the 
most  repulsive  occupations.  Nearly  all  men 
judge  things  only  by  the  price  that  public 
opinion  gives  to  them.  Not  only  does  opinion 
swell  the  sails  which  move  our  bark,  but  it 
is  she  who  holds  the  rudder,  taking  away 
from  us  even  the  choice  of  our  route  and  re- 
ducing us  to  a  purely  passive  role. 

This  power  of  public  opinion  upon  us  is 
so  strong  that  we  can  not  bear  to  see  any 
sign  of  contempt,  even  from  unknown  peo- 
ple, or  from  people  whom  we  have  every  rea- 
son to  despise.  Every  professor  of  gymnas- 
tics knows  that  young  men  can  accomplish 
wonders  when  a  stranger  is  present.  In 
learning  to  swim  or  to  skate,  it  doubles  one's 
boldness  to  feel  that  one  is  observed.  If  we 
wish  further  to  test  this  power  of  others  upon 
us,  we  only  have  to  think  of  how  much  we 
would  suffer  if  we  were  obliged  to  go  clothed 
as  a  beggar,  even  in  a  town  where  we  had 
never  been  before,  but  especially  to  go 
through  our  own  street  in  such  a  ridiculous 
guise.  The  misery  that  a  woman  suffers 
in  wearing  a  gown  that  is  out  of  fashion,  in- 

[  392  ] 


PUBLIC  OPINION,  PROFESSORS,  ETC. 

dicates  the  weight  with  which  the  opinion  of 
others  bears  upon  us.  I  can  distinctly  re- 
member the  mortification  that  I  felt  at  twen- 
ty years  of  age,  still  being  very  young,  and 
at  college,  at  being  obliged  to  wear  my  stu- 
dent 's  gown  with  a  tiny  patch  on  the  elbow, 
which  I  doubtless  was  the  only  one  to  notice. 

One  never  dreams  that  one  might  deliber- 
ately turn  to  advantage  this  frightful  despot- 
ism that  society  exercises  over  the  least  of 
our  actions,  and  so  a  great  force  is  lost  for 
lack  of  knowing  how  to  put  it  to  a  good  use. 

In  school,  the  boy  submits  to  the  last  de- 
gree to  the  pressure  of  opinion  exercised  by 
his  comrades  and  masters  and  parents,  be- 
cause all  these  forces  are  brought  to  bear 
upon  him.  Nevertheless,  these  forces  are 
only  brought  to  bear  upon  intellectual  work, 
and,  even  on  this  point,  his  companions  gen- 
erally show  poor  judgment.  They  have  a 
certain  feeling  of  contempt  for  the  "dig,"  or 
the  hard-working  student  of  average  intelli- 
gence. The  easy,  graceful  successes  which 
blossom,  as  it  were,  of  their  own  accord, 
thanks  to  the  fertility  of  the  soil,  are  more 
attractive.  One  sees  in  these  young  people 

[393] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

the  great  error  of  our  systems  of  education, 
which  sacrifices  the  cultivation  of  the  will  to 
intellectual  culture.  But,  on  the  whole,  the 
threefold  opinion  of  parents  and  professors 
and  students  makes  a  very  strong  current 
flowing  in  one  direction ;  and  in  consequence, 
the  school  often  gets  wonderful  results  from 
young  people,  who,  if  left  to  themselves, 
would  do  nothing. 

Furthermore,  this  opinion  is  very  dis- 
tinctly exprest  each  week  in  some  tangible 
way,  either  by  marks  awarded  for  composi- 
tion, or  notes  read  in  the  class,  or  by  the 
rebuke  or  praise  of  the  professor  before  his 
fellow  students.  In  fact,  there  is  too  strong 
an  appeal  made  to  one's  selfish  feelings  and 
to  the  spirit  of  emulation  and  the  desire  for 
praise,  and  not  enough  to  the  feeling  of  per- 
sonal responsibility  and  duty.  The  attention 
is  not  sufficiently  directed  to  the  keen  pleas- 
ure which  comes  with  the  feeling  of  vigorous 
intellectual  growth,  or  to  the  joy  of  self-im- 
provement, or  the  numerous  delights  that  the 
work  itself  brings,  both  in  the  doing  of  it, 
and  in  the  results.  They,  as  it  were,  gird  the 
student  with  cork  belts,  instead  of  teaching 

[3941 


PUBLIC  OPINION,  PROFESSORS,  ETC. 

him  to  swim  without  help.  His  difficulties 
are  all  the  more  unfortunate,  because,  from 
the  time  that  he  arrives  at  his  college,  he 
finds  himself  absolutely  alone.  The  profess- 
or is  too  far  above  him,  and  his  parents  too 
far  away.  The  only  thing  that  the  student 
has  to  stimulate  him  is  his  vision  of  the  fu- 
ture, which  is  apt  to  be  very  indistinct;  and 
the  example  of  his  elders  who  managed  to 
get  through  without  very  much  effort,  only 
lowers  his  efficiency.  The  approach  of  the 
examination  is  apt  to  stimulate  him  to  tem- 
porary efforts  which,  however,  are  always 
unsystematic,  and  which  are  more  like  stuf- 
fing or  cramming  than  healthy  food. 

The  student  may  be  strengthened  from 
without  by  the  opinion  of  his  comrades.  Un- 
fortunately, this  opinion,  from  what  we  have 
been  able  to  see,  is  apt  to  glorify,  or  at  least 
to  affect  to  glorify  every  thing  other  than 
work.  If  a  young  man  really  feels  that  in 
order  to  do  well  he  must  have  the  praise  of 
other  young  men,  he  must  not  hope  for  it 
from  more  than  a  few,  a  little  group  carefully 
chosen  from  among  the  crowd.  The  student 
who  makes  up  his  mind  that  he  wants  to  do 

[395] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

something  more  with  his  life  than  merely 
write  a  little  essay  on  the  influence  of  the 
songs  of  Beranger  or  the  poems  of  Alfred  de 
Musset,  can  easily  find,  if  he  wishes  to,  or 
else  create  an  environment  that  will  be  help- 
ful to  his  plans.  There  are  many  young  men 
who  leave  college  with  great  aspirations.  But, 
as  Mill *  remarks :  ' l  Capacity  for  the  nobler 
feelings  is  in  most  cases  a  very  tender  plant, 
easily  killed,  not  only  by  hostile  influences, 
but  by  mere  want  of  sustenance;  and  in  the 
majority  of  young  persons  it  speedily  dies 
away  if  the  occupation  to  which  their  posi- 
tion in  life  has  devoted  them,  and  the  society 
into  which  it  has  thrown  them,  are  not  favor- 
able to  keeping  that  higher  capacity  in  exer- 
cise. Men  lose  their  high  aspirations  as 
they  lose  their  intellectual  tastes  because  they 
have  not  time  or  opportunity  for  indulging 
them,  and  they  addict  themselves  to  inferior 
pleasures,  not  because  they  deliberately  pre- 
fer them,  but  because  they  are  either  the  only 
ones  to  which  they  have  access,  or  the  only 
ones  which  they  are  any  longer  capable  of 
enjoying. " 

i  Stuart  Mill,  ' '  Utilitarianism, ' '  Chap.  II. 
[396] 


PUBLIC  OPINION,  PROFESSORS,  ETC. 

The  best  way  to  solve  the  difficulties  arising 
from  the  low  moral  tone  of  the  mass  of  stu- 
dents, would  be  for  those  who  have  the  higher 
aims  to  form  little  groups  of  three  or  four 
of  their  comrades  who  would  agree  to  unite 
their  efforts  for  their  common  good.  The 
professors  of  the  faculty  could  exercise  a 
far-reaching  influence  if  they  would  appre- 
ciate the  greatness  of  their  opportunities  and 
the  influence  of  their  authority  with  the  stu- 
dents, but  unfortunately  the  prevailing  errors 
concerning  the  role  of  higher  instruction  pre- 
vents the  majority  of  them  from  really  doing 
their  duty.  There  is  a  prevailing  opinion  that 
the  role  of  professor  in  the  university  differs 
essentially  from  that  of  a  professor  in  a 
lyceum  or  undergraduate  college.  The  lat- 
ter is  an  educator  first  and  last.  The  former 
is  a  savant.  On  the  latter  devolves  the  duty 
of  instructing  the  mind  of  the  boy  and  of 
molding  it  if  he  can;  but  the  former  has  the 
serene  indifference  of  the  investigator,  who 
has  no  other  care  than  the  truth. 

Such  assertions  are  neither  more  nor  less 
than  monstrous.  They  take  for  granted  ac- 
cepted conditions  which  have  never  existed. 

[397] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

They  first  of  all  take  for  granted  that  the 
professor  of  a  faculty  is  a  savant  and  that  he 
has  no  other  duties  except  the  pursuit  of 
science.  This  pretension  might  be  accepted  if 
the  professor  lived  only  for  his  science  and 
by  his  science  and  his  discoveries,  and  if  he 
never  went  out  of  his  laboratory  or  his  study. 

But  this  is  by  no  means  the  case,  altho  he 
is  a  professor  in  the  faculty,  he  draws  his 
check  each  month.  This  trifling  deed  which 
takes  so  short  a  time  to  perform  and  which 
only  occurs  twelve  times  a  year,  is,  neverthe- 
less, sufficient  to  transform  the  position  of 
the  savant  into  that  of  being  first  and  fore- 
most a  professor,  who  has  duties  not  only  to- 
ward science,  but  toward  his  students  as  well. 

Thoroughly  to  appreciate  these  duties,  it  is 
necessary  to  comprehend  the  state  of  the  stu- 
dent's mind  when  he  arrives  at  the  university. 
The  material  for  such  a  study  can  be  gath- 
ered by  critically  reviewing  our  own  state  of 
mind  at  that  time,  by  collecting  the  com- 
plaints of  former  graduates  exprest  in  their 
letters,  the  replies  of  students  who  are  still 
at  the  university,  to  friends  who  have  begged 
them  to  write  the  real  truth  about  things 

[398] 


PUBLIC  OPINION,  PROFESSORS,  ETC. 

which  are  generally  dissimulated,  and  finally 
by  the  confidences  of  students  that  are  either 
given  directly  or  brought  about  in  a  friendly 
way,  or  else  that  slip  out  unawares  in  some 
confession  or  in  some  innocent  remark  that 
would  be  fraught  with  meaning  to  an  observer 
who  was  on  the  watch. 

This  state  of  mind  in  its  general  outline 
is  as  follows :  During  the  first  weeks  the  stu- 
dent experiences  a  sense  of  intoxication,  like 
that  of  a  prisoner  who  has  just  been  set  at 
liberty.  This  is  a  negative  state  in  certain 
respects ;  it  is  a  feeling  of  utter  freedom  from 
restraint.  To  prove  to  himself  that  he  is  ab- 
solutely free  to  do  as  he  likes,  nearly  every 
student  exercises  this  liberty  by  making  a 
noise  and  by  sitting  far  into  the  night  at  a 
restaurant  or  some  such  place.  How  proud 
he  is  the  next  day  to  boast  of  having  come  in 
at  2  o'clock  in  the  morning!  .  •*  .  The 
majority  of  students  of  the  weak-willed, 
mediocre  order  will  continue  this  stupid,  fa- 
tiguing, profitless  life  through  their  whole 
course.  The  stronger  natures  quickly  get 
hold  of  themselves.  Then  the  lack  of  money 
comes  into  the  question  and  soon  forces  the 

[399] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

poorer  students  to  change  this  kind  of  ex- 
istence and  to  break  with  their  lazy  compan- 
ions. It  is  by  reason  of  this  very  salutary 
restraint  that  the  taste  for  a  higher  life  is 
often  awakened  in  men  who  have  fine  minds 
but  weak  wills.  These  are  the  only  two 
classes  of  students  who  deserve  the  interest 
of  their  professors;  fortunately,  they  are 
worthy  of  his  efforts,  and  generally  do  him 
credit. 

Once  the  students  have  become  accustomed 
to  their  liberty,  and  the  foolish  intoxication 
of  the  first  days  has  passed  away  and  the 
young  people  have  come  to  themselves,  they 
begin  to  feel  terribly  lonely.  A  few  see 
clearly  what  the  matter  is.  At  this  age  the 
need  of  strong  moral  support  is  very  great, 
and  young  men  naturally  seek  as  friends 
those  whom  they  feel  will  have  the  same  as- 
pirations as  their  own.  It  would  be  easy  to 
form  such  groups  as  those  of  which  we  have 
spoken  if  the  courageous  young  men  would 
rise  up  boldly  and  strike  a  blow  at  the  tyranny 
of  other  people's  opinion,  which  obliges  them 
to  appear  to  be  what  in  reality  they  are 
struggling  hard  not  to  be.  How  many  of 

[400] 


PUBLIC  OPINION,  PROFESSORS,  ETC. 

them,  through  timidity  or  lack  of  moral  cour- 
age, repeat  formulae  which  they  feel  to  be 
untrue,  pretending  to  take  a  cynical  mediocre 
view  of  life,  which  they  really  do  not  have, 
and  affecting  a  coarseness  which  is  distaste- 
ful to  them  at  first,  but  to  which,  alas!  they 
soon  become  accustomed. 

But  these  groups  of  congenial  students  are 
not  enough,  unless  one  at  least,  of  the  com- 
pany has  an  exceptionally  strong  moral  na- 
ture, which  is  hardly  possible  to  expect  at 
this  age.  Each  individual  feels  the  need  of 
some  support  from  above,  of  some  personal 
approbation,  coming  from  some  one  higher 
than  himself.  It  is  this  intensely  human  need 
which  the  Catholic  Church  satisfies  by  its 
confessors.  But  in  the  university,  there  is 
nothing  like  it.  The  student  is  completely 
abandoned.  But,  when  one  remembers  the 
profound  admiration  that  the  students  feel 
for  their  masters,  when  one  has  tested  the 
strength  of  their  faith,  for  all  that  the  mas- 
ters may  not  have  talents  worthy  of  it,  one 
can  not  help  but  be  profoundly  saddened  to 
think  that  no  use  whatsoever  is  made  of  this 
feeling.  The  professor  knows  hardly  any- 

[401] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

thing  of  his  students,  he  knows  nothing  of 
their  family,  nothing  of  their  antecedents, 
nothing  of  their  desires,  or  their  aspirations, 
or  their  dreams  of  the  future.  If  he  could 
but  suspect  how  much  importance  would  be 
attached  to  a  single  word  of  encouragement 
or  a  good  council  or  even  friendly  reproach 
in  these  blest  hours  of  one's  twentieth  year! 
If  the  university,  with  its  superior  moral  cul- 
ture and  its  profound  science  would  but  bor- 
row from  the  Catholic  Church  all  the  percep- 
tion that  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  human 
heart  has  suggested  to  this  wonderful  insti- 
tution, it  could  govern  the  heart  of  youth 
without  dispute  and  without  rival.  When  one 
thinks  of  what  Fichte  and  the  German  pro- 
fessors, in  spite  of  their  ignorance  of  psy- 
chology, have  been  able  to  do  for  the  power 
of  Germany,  simply  by  the  perfect  ability  to 
work  together  and  by  the  influence  of  man  to 
man  upon  their  students,  one  is  heartbroken 
to  see  nothing  being  done  here,  altho  move- 
ments ten  times  as  strong  would  be  possible 
with  our  young  men. 

See  what  has  happened  in  France,   and 
what  has  been  accomplished  by  an  energetic 

[402] 


PUBLIC  OPINION,  PROFESSORS,  ETC. 

man,  conscious  of  the  goal  which  he  had  set 
before  him.  He  knew,  first  of  all,  how  to 
gather  the  students  together  into  groups. 
Then,  having  created  several  groups,  all  that 
he  did  was  to  tell  them  very  clearly  the  in- 
ternational work  that  the  youths  of  France 
should  take  upon  themselves;  but  these  con- 
cise formulae,  pronounced  by  a  man  who 
loved  young  people,  have  been  like  a  power- 
ful magnet  drawing  into  the  same  direction 
innumerable  forces,  which,  until  then,  had 
been  in  a  state  of  anarchy,  and  which  were 
destroying  themselves  by  their  own  contra- 
dictions. Now,  if  what  M.  Lavisse  has  done, 
each  professor  would  do  for  the  chosen  spir- 
its among  his  own  pupils,  the  results  obtained 
would  go  beyond  our  dearest  hopes.  The 
teaching  body  would  be  able  to  create  in  the 
country  that  aristocracy  of  which  we  have 
already  spoken,  an  aristocracy  of  strong  char- 
acters ready  for  noble  undertakings. 


[403] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 


II 

The  second  postulate,  which  we  deny  and 
which  is  based  upon  the  habitual  conception 
that  everybody  has  of  higher  education,  is 
the  identity  of  erudition  and  science.  Stu- 
dents complain  of  the  enormous  mass  of  un- 
digested materials  which  they  have  to  as- 
similate, and  they  also  complain  of  their  lack 
of  experience  of  good  methods  of  work. 
These  two  complaints  belong  together.  If 
the  student  has  not  good  methods  of  work, 
the  fact  is  due  to  the  absurd  way  in  which  his 
studies  are  organized.  It  seems  to  be  ac- 
cepted as  an  axiom,  that  once  a  student  leaves 
the  university  he  will  never  do  any  more 
work.  The  result  is,  that  as  long  as  they  have 
him  there,  they  try  to  pour  into  him,  as  if 
he  were  a  cask,  all  the  stuff  that  they  can 
possibly  make  him  hold.  They  require  his 
memory  to  perform  almost  superhuman  feats. 
And  how  encouraging  are  the  results  of  this 
method!  The  great  majority  of  young  men 
are  disgusted  with  work,  once  for  all.  This 
fine  way  of  doing  things  implies,  moreover, 

[404] 


PUBLIC  OPINION,  PROFESSORS,  ETC. 

what  is  false,  that  everything  that  one  learns 
will  stay  in  the  memory.  As  if  it  were  not 
only  that  which  is  frequently  repeated  which 
stays,  and  as  if  this  frequent  repetition  could 
be  extended  to  cover  a  whole  encyclopedia! 
It  is,  however,  quite  useless  to  discuss  every 
phase  of  the  drawbacks  attendant  upon 
higher  education  such  as  it  is  made  by  the 
necessity  of  foolish,  meaningless  examina- 
tions. It  will  be  enough  to  point  out  the  key- 
stone which  holds  the  system  in  place.  This 
keystone  is  the  false  idea  which  one  has  con- 
cerning the  nature  of  science  and  the  value  of 
a  scientific  mind  and  the  essential  qualities  of 
the  investigator,  as  well  as  his  method  of 
transmitting  science  to  one's  disciples.  Ger- 
many has  done  us  much  harm  in  communi- 
cating to  us  her  false  conceptions  on  these 
points.  No,  erudition  is  not  science!  It  is 
so  far  from  being  that,  it  is  quite  the  oppo- 
site. The  word  science  immediately  suggests 
to  us  the  idea  of  accumulated  knowledge, 
while  it  ought  to  suggest  to  us  the  idea  of 
a  strong,  vigorous  mind,  full  of  initiative,  but 
extremely  careful  in  verification.  The  ma- 
jority of  savants  of  the  first  order  as  well  as 

[405] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

great  discoverers  are  much  more  ignorant 
than  their  pupils.  They  could  not  even  be 
true  savants  unless  their  minds  were  very 
free,  for  the  condition  of  all  discovery  is, 
above  all,  an  indefatigable  mental  activity  in 
a  given  direction.  We  have  already  quoted 
(I,  ii)  the  celebrated  reply,  which  Newton 
made  to  those  who  asked  for  the  secret  of 
his  successful  method.  We  have  shown  Dar- 
win as  denying  himself  all  reading  which  did 
not  bear  upon  the  subject  of  his  meditation, 
and  during  nearly  thirty  years  bringing  his 
curious  mind  to  bear  on  all  the  facts  which 
might  possibly  enter  as  vital  elements  into 
the  organization  of  his  system.  The  power 
of  infinitely  patient  and  discerning  medita- 
tion and  a  critical  spirit  always  on  the  watch, 
these  are  what  make  a  truly  learned  man. 
And  with  this  patience  and  this  attention  al- 
ways pointing  toward  the  same  end,  one  must 
have,  in  order  to  sustain  them,  the  passion  of 
truth  and  sustained  enthusiasm. 

Erudition,  on  the  contrary,  tends  to  make 
the  mind  dull.  A  quantity  of  little  facts  en- 
cumber the  memory.  The  man  with  a  supe- 
rior mind  leaves  these,  as  far  as  possible,  to 

[406] 


PUBLIC  OPINION,  PROFESSORS,  ETC. 

his  notes.  The  honor  of  being  an  animated 
dictionary  does  not  tempt  him.  He  tries  to 
keep  the  main  ideas  of  his  research  free;  he 
subjects  them  to  severe  criticism,  and  if  they 
will  stand  long  tests,  he  adopts  them  and  lets 
them  slowly  grow;  he  loves  them,  and  once 
made  living  realities,  they  cease  to  be  dead, 
passive  ideas  in  thought  and  become  active, 
vigorous  powers.  Thenceforward,  the  idea 
first  suggested  by  the  study  of  facts  will,  in 
its  turn,  organize  facts.  Like  a  magnet  that 
attracts  iron  filings  and  arranges  them  in 
regular  order,  the  idea  infuses  order  into  dis- 
order, makes  a  work  of  art  out  of  a  shape- 
less mass,  and  a  building  of  the  scattered  ma- 
terials. Facts  without  apparent  importance 
will  be  brought  into  the  light;  superfluous 
facts  will  be  cast  aside  with  disdain.  A  man 
who  has  the  happiness  to  have  thus  duly  veri- 
fied a  few  ideas,  which  are  capable  of  becom- 
ing the  active  agents  of  powerful  organiza- 
tions of  facts,  is  a  great  man. 

Therefore,  the  power  of  the  savant  is  not 
in  proportion  to  the  number  of  facts  he  has 
amassed.  It  is  in  proportion  to  his  capacity 
for  research  and  adventure,  if  I  may  thus 

[407] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

call  it,  which  is  constantly  controlled  by  a 
severe  criticism.  The  number  of  facts  is 
nothing,  their  quality  is  everything.  This  is 
what  is  too  often  forgotten  in  higher  educa- 
tion. It  rarely  ever  develops  strength  of 
judgment,  or  a  mind  which  is  at  the  same  time 
both  bold  and  prudent.  Young  people  are 
overloaded  with  ideas  of  very  unequal  value ; 
they  only  cultivate  their  memory,  with  the 
result  that  they  forget  the  essential  thing, 
which  is,  and  we  do  not  hesitate  to  repeat  it 
once  again,  the  initiative  spirit  allied  to  me- 
thodical doubt.  Note  that  examinations  are 
really  very  easy  affairs,  when  we  come  to 
analyze  the  actual  state  of  things,  both  for 
the  pupil  and  for  the  master.  For  the  for- 
mer, a  conscientious  "cramming"  will  make 
a  very  creditable  show.  As  for  the  examiner, 
it  is  very  much  easier  for  him  to  ascertain 
whether  the  student  knows  this  or  that  or 
still  another  fact  than  to  form  a  judgment 
upon  the  quality  of  his  mind.  The  examina- 
tion becomes  a  lottery.  Let  any  one  verify 
these  assertions  by  the  monstrous  program 
of  the  first  year  of  medicine  or  that  of  the 
licentiate  degree  of  natural  sciences  or  that 

[408] 


PUBLIC  OPINION,  PROFESSORS,  ETC. 

of  the  licentiate  of  history,  without  speaking 
of  the  majority  of  examinations  which  apply 
to  other  subjects,  and  one  will  see  in  all  its 
crudeness  this  fatal  tendency  to  transform 
higher  education  into  mere  cultivation  of  the 
memory.1 

In  view  of  this  fact,  the  professors  must 
be  made  to  realize  that  the  courses  are  not 
the  best  things  in  their  instruction.  Neces- 
sarily fragmentary  in  themselves,  without 
any  connection  with  the  other  forces,  they 
do  not  amount  to  a  great  deal,  and  the  best 
course  in  the  world,  after  one  has  left  the 
lyceum  (and  often  even  before),  is  not  worth 
as  much  as  a  few  hours  of  sincere  personal 
effort  on  the  part  of  the  student.  It  is  the 
practical  work  which  gives  the  greatest  value 
to  higher  education.  It  is  the  contact  with 

1 1  defy  a  man  of  good  sense  to  read  without  indignation 
the  list  of  questions  which  were  put  to  the  candidates  of  the 
Polytechnique  and  of  Saint  Cyr.  It  would  seem  as  tho  they 
wanted  to  discourage  every  mind  of  any  value  from  en- 
tering these  schools,  which  can  not  be  entered  in  any  other 
way.  The  school  of  war  itself,  instead  of  encouraging 
efforts  that  require  reflective  work,  substitute  efforts  of 
exaggerated  memory.  Compare ( ( La  Nouvelle  Eevue ;  La  mis' 
sion  sociale  de  1  'officer. ' '  July  1  and  15,  1893. 

[409] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

other  students  and  with  the  master.  First, 
by  the  very  fact  that  he  is  there,  the  master 
proves  the  possibility  of  work.  He  is  the  liv- 
ing, concrete,  tangible  and  respected  example 
of  what  can  be  done  by  working.  On  the 
other  hand,  his  conversations,  his  encourage- 
ments, his  confessions,  his  semi-confidences 
over  his  methods,  and  more  than  all  that,  his 
example  in  the  laboratory;  the  initiative  of 
the  encouraged  student,  the  personal  work 
that  is  cited,  the  expositions  before  his  com- 
rades, the  clear  and  simple  descriptions  of 
books  read,  all  this  performed  under  the 
kindly  control  of  the  master,  is  what  consti- 
tutes inspiring  instruction.  The  more  bril- 
liant a  professor  is,  and  the  more  he  enjoys 
hearing  himself  talk,  and  the  more  he  argues, 
the  less  willingly  would  I  confide  young  peo- 
ple to  him;  he  must  be  able  to  make  them 
i  l  trot  before  him, '  '  as  Montaigne  said : *  One 
no  more  learns  the  art  of  working,  nor 
makes  any  true  progress  in  scientific  work, 
by  listening  to  the  professor  than  one  gains 
skill  and  muscle  in  gymnastics  by  watching 
the  strong  man  at  a  circus. 

t" Essays,"  I.  XXV. 

[410] 


PUBLIC  OPINION,  PROFESSORS,  ETC. 

As  has  been  seen,  the  two  essential  needs 
of  the  student,  the  need  of  moral  direction, 
and  the  need  of  methodical  direction  of  work, 
have  a  common  remedy  in  the  intimate  rela- 
tion of  the  professor  and  the  pupil.  The  pro- 
fessor himself  will  find  his  own  reward  in 
this,  for  in  arousing  scientific  enthusiasm  in 
his  disciples,  he  will  strengthen  his  own.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  will  be  overwhelmingly 
convinced  that  the  great  movements  of 
thought  accomplished  in  the  world  have  been, 
not  by  the  communication  of  knowledge,  but 
by  the  communication  of  an  ardent  love  for 
the  truth  or  for  some  great  cause,  and  by  the 
communication  of  good  methods  of  work. 
That  is  to  say,  in  a  word,  that  influence  only 
comes  through  the  contact  of  man  to  man, 
and  soul  to  soul.  It  was  thus  that  Socrates 
taught  Plato  his  method  and  passed  on  to 
him  his  enthusiasm  for  the  truth.  This  also 
explains  why  it  is  that  in  Germany  men  of 
great  scientific  genius  have  sprung  from  little 
university  centers,1  where  the  professor  and 
the  student  have  had  that  soul-to-soul  con- 
tact of  which  we  have  just  spoken. 

i  Compare  Haeckel, ' '  The  Proofs  of  Transf ormism, ' '  p.  35. 
[411] 


n 


INFLUENCE  OF  THE  "DEPARTED  GREAT" 

IF  the  intellectual  life  and  the  energy  of  the 
will  are  so  strengthened  by  this  living  contact 
of  student  and  master,  the  solitary  student 
may  find  help  of  this  personal  nature,  tho  to 
a  lesser  degree,  through  the  influence  of  men 
who,  tho  dead,  are  at  the  same  time,  more 
alive  and  more  capable  of  transmitting  life 
than  the  living.  When  one  has  no  opportu- 
nity of  meeting  living,  speaking  examples, 
nothing  is  worth  more  for  the  cultivation  of 
one's  moral  enthusiasm  than  the  contempla- 
tion of  pure,  simple,  heroic  lives.  This 
"  great  cloud  of  witnesses "  helps  us  to  fight 
the  good  fight.  In  times  of  calm  and  solitude, 
association  with  the  "  great  souls  of  the 
greater  centuries"  has  a  wonderful  effect  in 
strengthening  the  will.  "I  remember, "  says 
Michelet,  "that  when  this  trouble  came,  pA- 
vations  of  the  present,  fear  of  the  future,  the 
enemy  being  only  two  steps  off  (1814),  and 
my  own  enemies  mocking  me  every  day,  one 

[412] 


INFLUENCE  OF  "DEPARTED  GREAT" 

day,  a  Thursday  morning,  I  gathered  myself 
together  in  a  huddled  heap;  without  fire  (the 
snow  lay  deep  over  everything),  not  knowing 
even  if  there  would  be  bread  to  eat  in  the 
evening,  as  everything  seemed  at  an  end  for 
me — I  had  within  me  a  purely  stoical  feel- 
ing— I  struck  my  oak  table  with  my  hand,  it 
was  numb  with  the  cold,  but  I  felt  the  virile 
joy  of  youth  and  of  the  future.  Who  gave  me 
this  vigorous  enthusiasm?  Those  with  whom 
I  lived  my  daily  life ;  my  favorite  authors.  I 
was  each  day  drawn  more  closely  to  this  noble 
society."1  Stuart  Mill2  said  that  his  father 
loved  to  put  in  his  hand  books  which  repre- 
sented men  of  energy,  who  were  full  of  re- 
sources in  struggling  with  serious  difficulties 
which  they  succeeded  in  overcoming,  books  of 
travels,  "Robinson  Crusoe,"  etc.,  and  fur- 
ther on 8  he  relates  the  remarkable  effect  that 
was  produced  on  him  by  the  pictures  which 
Plato  drew  of  Socrates,  or  Turgot's  life  of 
Condorcet.  Such  reading  can  produce  the 
most  profound  and  lasting  impressions. 

1  Michelet,  "Ma  jeunesse, "  page  99. 

2  John  Stuart  Mill,  ' '  Memoirs, ' '  Chap.  I,  page  8. 
8  Ibid,  page  108. 

[413] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

Think  of  the  wonderful  power  that  such  lead- 
ers of  thought  possess!  We  see  Socrates, 
after  more  than  2,000  years  have  rolled  by, 
still  preserving  his  authority  and  his  mar- 
velous power  of  kindling  the  purest  enthu- 
siasm in  youthful  souls. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  we  can  not  use,  as 
the  Catholic  Church  does,  the  lives  of  the  lay 
saints  for  the  instruction  of  young  people. 
Does  not  the  life  of  a  philosopher  like  Spinoza 
stir  up  an  extraordinary  feeling  of  admira- 
tion in  those  who  read  his  moving  recital? 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  these  wonderful 
biographies,  which  are  scattered  here  and 
there,  have  never  been  united  in  a  single  col- 
lection ;  such  a  book  would  be  the  Plutarch  to 
which  the  mental  workers  could  refer  in  order 
to  strengthen  their  energy.  The  idea  of  the 
calendar  of  Auguste  Comte  was  an  excellent 
one;  he  proposed  that  each  day  one  should 
meditate  upon  the  life  of  some  benefactor  of 
humanity, to  whom  that  day's  thoughts  should 
be  devoted.  But  has  not  classical  education, 
as  it  is  understood,  exactly  this  end  in  view : 
to  kindle  a  calm  and  lasting  enthusiasm  for 
all  that  is  grand  and  noble  and  generous  in 

[414] 


INFLUENCE  OF  " DEPARTED  GREAT" 

the  minds  of  students!  And  has  it  not  at- 
tained its  end  if  a  chosen  few  perceive  the 
high  ideal,  and  can  henceforward  never  stoop 
to  lower  things  or  sink  back  to  the  common 
level !  These  chosen  few,  destined  to  form  the 
holy  battalion  on  which  the  civilized  world 
fixes  its  eyes,  owes  its  superiority  to  long 
companionship  with  the  purest  human  genius 
of  antiquity. 

Unfortunately,  altho  our  better  feelings  can 
be  stimulated  by  this  companionship,  these 
noble  dead  can  not  furnish  us  the  more  defi- 
nite council  of  which  we  stand  in  need,  and 
nothing  can  take  the  place  of  the  spiritual 
direction  given  by  an  experienced  and  careful 
master. 


1415] 


CONCLUSION. 

The  preceding  chapters  show  us  how  easy 
the  task  of  mastering  self  would  be,  if  every- 
thing in  our  national  education  could  be  made 
to  converge  toward  this  great  conquest !  For, 
altho  the  struggle  against  laziness  and  sen- 
suality is  not  easy,  it  is  at  least  possible,  and 
the  knowledge  of  our  psychological  resources 
ought  to  give  us  confidence.  The  practical 
conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  the  entire  work 
is  that  we  can  reform  our  character ;  that  we 
ourselves  can  educate  our  own  wills;  that 
witE  time  and  a  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  our 
nature,  we  are  sure  to  arrive  at  a  high  degree 
of  self-mastery.  What  the  Catholic  religion 
can  accomplish  for  the  nobler  natures  of  hu- 
manity enables  us  to  see  what  could  be  done 
for  the  finer  minds  of  our  own  young  people ; 
for  we  can  not  say  that  the  revealed  religions 
make  use  of  means  which  are  beyond  our 
power  to  employ.  If  we  examine  the  source 
of  the  remarkable  power  of  the  churches  over 
the  faithful,  we  discover  that  their  methods 

[416] 


CONCLUSION 


of  action  may  be  separated  into  two  great 
divisions:  the  purely  human  methods,  and 
those  that  are  purely  religious  in  their  nature. 

The  human  measures  may  be  reduced  to 
three,  the  power  of  authority,  the  authority 
of  men  of  genius  who  are  dead,  the  authority 
of  bishops,  priests,  theologians,  etc.,  and  in 
former  times,  even  the  civil  authority,  which 
placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  church  the  power 
of  imprisonment,  torture,  and  burning  at  the 
stake.  To  this  power,  which,  to-day,  is  much 
diminished,  was  added  all  the  weight  of  pub- 
lic opinion,  the  hatred  and  contempt  and  per- 
secution of  the  believers  toward  the  non-be- 
lievers. Finally,  from  infancy  a  religious 
education  molds  the  child,  and  by  repetitions 
in  every  form,  oral  instruction,  reading,  pub- 
lic ceremonies,  etc.,  impresses  a  religious  sen- 
timent most  profoundly  on  his  soul. 

Now  could  not  we  use  these  three  powers 
to  even  a  better  advantage  than  the  churches  ? 
Is  there  not  perfect  harmony  among  thinkers 
of  all  orders  on  this  great  question  of  the  per- 
fection of  self?  Is  it  possible  to  have  dissen- 
tion  as  in  religious  dogmas?  We  are  in 
charge  of  the  education  of  the  child.  And 

[417] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

if  our  methods  could  be  brought  together;  if 
we  but  knew  the  end  to  pursue,  would  not  our 
power  become  enormous !  Could  we  not  mold 
the  soul  of  the  child  according  to  our  own 
ideas  !  As  for  public  opinion,  education  must 
change  that.  The  admiration  of  the  multi- 
tude is  already  often  bestowed  upon  what  is 
great  and  generous.  Noble  feelings  are  the 
cause  of  union  between  men  and  tend  to  for- 
tify themselves  more  rapidly  than  others 
which  are  the  cause  of  dissensions.  That  is 
why  we  often  see  a  crowd  composed  largely 
of  rascals  applauding  an  honest  speech.  Fur- 
thermore, public  opinion  is  easily  led,  and  a 
minority  of  energetic,  honest  men  is  enough 
to  turn  it  in  the  right  direction.  What  they 
were  able  to  do  in  Athens  for  beauty  and  for 
talent  and  in  Sparta  for  self-renunciation, 
could  not  modern  society  accomplish  with 
even  less  effect  for  a  still  more  noble  object! 
But,  it  is  said  that  no  great  work  of  moral 
improvement  is  possible  if  its  foundations 
are  not  based  upon  religious  truth.  We  be- 
lieve this,  but  we  also  believe  that  the  only 
religious  truth  that  is  necessary  and  suffi- 
cient, is  to  admit  that  the  universe  and  human 

[418] 


CONCLUSION 


life  are  not  without  a  moral  end,  and  that  no 
effort  for  good  is  lost.  We  have  seen  above  * 
that  this  theory  is  based  on  sound  judgment, 
and  that  in  the  last  analysis  one  must  neces- 
sarily choose  between  it  and  the  opposite 
theory.  Whichever  choice  one  makes,  one 
can  not  prove  it  experimentally.  Choice  for 
choice,  it  is  better  to  choose  the  side  which  has 
the  strongest  presumptions  in  its  favor;  all 
the  more,  not  only  because  the  mere  hy- 
pothesis seems  more  likely  to  be  true,  and  is 
the  only  one  that  is  comprehensive  to  us 
and  at  the  same  time  consoling  and  socially 
indispensable.  This  minimum  of  religious 
truth  may  become  for  thinking  minds  an 
abundant  source  of  powerful  religious  feel- 
ings. This  belief,  while  in  nowise  denying 
anything  in  revealed  religions,  can  include 
their  beliefs,  as  a  genus  includes  all  its  spe- 
cies. Furthermore,  this  minimum  of  religious 
belief  hardly  being  enough  for  any  but  culti- 
vated minds,  the  thinker  will  look  upon  re- 
ligions as  allied  with  it  and  working  toward 
the  same  end,  and  will  tolerate  them,  in  so 
far,  at  least,  as  to  maintain  a  scrupulous  re- 

i  See  above  Book  III,  Chap.  I,  Sec.  IV. 
[419] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

spect  for  differing  opinions.  We  use  the 
word  allied  because  religions  have  taken  as 
their  essential  task,  the  struggle  against  the 
animal  nature  in  man ;  that  is  to  say,  in  fact, 
the  education  of  the  will  forms  the  point  of 
view  of  the  domination  of  reason  over  the 
brutal  forces  of  selfish  sensibility. 

We  can  not  help,  therefore,  but  be  struck 
with  the  conviction  that  any  man  can  finally 
attain  complete  mastery  over  himself  if  he 
will  but  take  advantage  of  the  aids  which  time 
and  his  own  psychological  resources  offer 
him.  As  this  great  work  is  possible,  it  should, 
by  reason  of  its  importance,  take  the  fore- 
most place  in  our  thoughts.  Our  happiness 
depends  on  the  education  of  our  wills,  for 
happiness  consists  in  being  able  to  extract  all 
the  joy  that  we  possibly  can  from  our  hap- 
piest ideas  and  feelings  in  preventing  un- 
pleasant thoughts  and  emotions  from  gaining 
access  to  consciousness,  or  at  least  prevent- 
ing them  from  overrunning  it.  Happiness 
presupposes,  therefore,  that  one  is  to  a  very 
great  degree  master  of  one's  attention,  which 
is  the  highest  expression  of  the  will. 

But  it  is  not  only  our  happiness  which  de- 

[420] 


CONCLUSION 


pends  upon  the  degree  of  power  which  w^ 
acquire  over  self,  but  still  further  our  highest 
intellectual  culture.  Genius  is  first  of  all  in- 
finite patience:  the  scientific  and  literary 
works  which  distinguish  the  greatest  human 
intellect  are  not  due  to  the  superiority  of  the 
intelligence,  as  is  generally  believed,  but  to 
the  superiority  of  a  will  that  expresses  ad- 
mirable control.  It  is  from  this  point  of  view 
that  we  should  readjust  from  its  very  founda- 
tions our  methods  of  undergraduate  and 
higher  education.  It  is  very  important  to 
abolish  the  foolish  principle  of  cultivating  the 
memory  exclusively,  for  this  is  weakening  the 
vital  forces  of  the  nation.  We  shall  have  to 
plunge  into  the  inextricable  thickets  of  the 
curriculums  of  all  the  schools  with  a  hatchet, 
so  that  we  may  cut  out  the  tangle  on  every 
side  to  let  in  the  daylight  and  the  air,  and  we 
must  be  willing  sometimes  even  to  sacrifice 
some  beautiful  plants  which  are  too  crowded 
and  which  will  never  grow.  Instead  of  en- 
couraging feats  of  memory *  we  must  substi- 

1  This  substitution  is  sometimes  very  easy,  thus  M.  Couat, 
rector  of  Bordeaux,  president  of  the  examining  jury  on 
grammar,  proposes,  in  his  report  of  1892  ("  Revue  universi- 

[421] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

tute  active  exercise  and  work  which  will  de- 
velop the  power  of  judgment  and  intellectual 
initiative  and  vigorous  deductions.  It  is  by 
cultivating  the  will  that  men  of  genius  are 
made,  for  all  those  higher  qualities  which  are 
attributed  to  the  intelligence  are  in  reality 
qualities  of  energy  and  of  constancy  of  will. 
In  our  century  we  have  brought  all  our 
efforts  to  bear  upon  the  conquest  of  the  out- 
side world,  with  the  result  that  we  have 
doubled  our  sense  of  covetousness  and  stimu- 
lated our  desires,  and  we  are,  in  consequence, 
more  restless  and  worried  and  unhappy  than 
ever  before.  This  is  because  these  exterior 
conquests  have  turned  our  attention  from  our 
interior  improvement.  We  have  thrust  the 
essential  work,  the  education  of  our  will,  to 
one  side;  we  have  thus  by  an  inconceivable 
deviation  left  to  chance  the  care  of  tempering 

taire, "  15  December,  1892),  to  do  away  with  the  tabulated 
lists  of  certain  passages  from  authors  to  be  read.  Instead 
of  thoroughly  preparing  such  or  such  required  texts,  one 
would  be  obliged  to  be  thoroughly  versed  in  Latin  or  Greek. 
The  oral  examinations  would  necessarily  be  less  brilliant, 
but  who  can  not  see  that  this  change  would  require  the 
student  to  do  real  intellectual  work,  instead  of  merely 
memorizing  texts. 

[422] 


CONCLUSION 


this  instrument,  which  is  the  most  powerful 
one  for  our  intellectual  power  and  our  happi- 
ness. 

In  addition,  social  questions  make  it  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  modify  our  system  of  edu- 
cation. These  questions  are  only  hard  to 
solve  and  of  pernicious  influence  because 
one  has  neglected,  as  much  at  the  primary 
school  as  at  the  college,  to  give  moral  educa- 
tion precedence  over  the  education  of  the 
will.  Most  excellent  rules  of  conduct  are 
offered  to  young  men  who  have  never  been 
taught  the  art  of  living  well,  to  selfish,  iras- 
cible, lazy,  sensual  men  who,  often,  it  is  true, 
wish  to  correct  themselves,  but  who,  owing 
to  this  disastrous  theory  of  free  will  which 
discourages  their  good  intentions,  have  never 
learned  that  liberty  and  the  mastery  of  self 
must  be  accomplished  little  by  little.  No  one 
has  taught  them  that  if  they  will  only  use  the 
proper  measures,  the  conquest  of  self  is  pos- 
sible, even  in  the  most  desperate  cases.  No 
one  has  taught  them  the  tactics  which  will 
lead  them  to  victory.  No  one  has  stirred 
within  them  the  desire  to  gird  themselves  for 
this  great  struggle.  They  do  not  know  how 

[423] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  WILL 

noble  the  mastery  of  self  is  in  itself,  nor  how 
rich  it  is  in  results  that  make  for  happiness 
and  the  highest  mental  culture.  If  each  one 
would  take  the  trouble  to  think  about  the  im- 
portance of  this  work,  and  of  the  overflowing 
generosity  with  which  the  slightest  efforts  in 
its  favor  are  rewarded,  he  would  not  only  give 
it  the  first  place  among  personal  and  public 
interests,  but  would  set  it  far  above  all  others 
as  the  most  important  and  the  most  urgent 
of  all  undertakings. 


THE  END. 


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